The Dark Lady
by maisey2k10
Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

A new fic! With several of my other fanfics coming to an end very soon, I thought I would post this and give you all a teaser of what's to come in the future. My depiction of Tom Riddle may be a little off compared to what you're expecting, but I do love changing the characters and warping them to my own liking.

This was requested by SereniteRose a while back and I've been slowly working on it for some time now. I've only got the first few chapters written so far, along with a few chapters I plan to use later on in the fic, but we'll see how it goes I suppose. This will be **updated sporadically.**

* * *

Page count: 10

* * *

Everyone's heard of Merlin. The Prince of Enchanters. A member of King Arthur's Court. The enemy of Morgana le Fey, a dark witch and King Arthur's half sister. He is said to be the most powerful wizard to have ever walked the Earth. But of course this is common knowledge.

But there is a legend, a legend few know about, a legend that people have long since forgotten. Merlin is said to return from the afterlife every two hundred and fifty years, for one night only. The purpose of this...To conceive an heir.

Merlin would choose a woman, witch or muggle, to conceive with. He would return to the afterlife to watch over the mother of his unborn child and he would watch his child grow, learn magic and carry on the legacy. But in those times, centuries ago, neither the woman nor child would survive the child birth, and if they did, they most certainly wouldn't survive the illnesses and harsh winters. Merlin's heir would be lost and he would be forced to wait another two hundred and fifty years to repeat the cycle.

But little do people know, legends are born from truth.

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Saturday 2nd May 1998**

Merlin watched in pride over his heir, his daughter, as she battled and duelled; as she protected those younger than her, and those weaker than her. He watched as she fought against evil and as she destroyed one of the most horrifically dark objects he had ever seen, both in his life and death.

If he was asked to describe in one word how he felt, he would reply proud. In all the centuries he had been in the afterlife, all the centuries he had watched over his children, his daughter was the strongest. She had survived.

In over a thousand years Merlin had fathered five children. Four of them along with the mothers had died in either child birth or before reaching the age of two. But now, he watched his fully grown daughter, soon to be eighteen in age, fighting a war that shouldn't have happened. That shouldn't have been so harsh to her. That shouldn't have forced her to fight for her life, to choose her life over the enemy's.

He had watched her grow, the only child to survive, likely due to her strong magical core and the wonders of modern medicine. He watched her make her way through her muggle school, as an outcast due to her intelligence and magic. He watched her each day at Hogwarts as she continued to prove that blood had nothing to do with magical ability and intelligence. She stood by Harry Potter, the poor boy who had his life ruined because of a prophecy that never should have come to light.

He watched her sorrow, her happiness, her laughter. He watched when tears fell because of loss, because of bullying, because she was taken advantage of. He watched as her blood was spilled and she was tortured in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. He wished he could ease her pain, he wished he could ease her suffering.

But he was proud of her. His daughter. His heir. His fighter. His Hermione. Her beauty was not recognised by those closest to her, but rather by those who despised her. Her intelligence rivalled by only one other in her year and even then she still won out with her grades and witty comebacks. Her loyalty and bravery were something he couldn't help admire. Her kindness and selflessness to those around her, even magical creatures.

He could not lose her. He had already lost four children, four sons. He would not lose his daughter, even it meant going against the rules. He would not.

Despite never actually talking to his daughter, he loved her with everything he had in him. Through watching her as she grew, he had gotten to know her. He knew her habits, he could tell when she was lying or when she was trying to put up a front and mask her true emotions. He knew that her favourite colour was purple and her favourite fruit was pears. He knew that her favourite book was Hogwarts a History and that her most prized possession was her cat, Crookshanks, who had sadly died a year ago.

No, he would not lose her, he would protect her. He would save her, and in turn save the Wizarding World. And that time had come when he saw her being hit with a fatal spell that would end her life in minutes.

* * *

Harry was a Horcrux. Hermione understood what the sick bastard, The Dark Lord, had done to her best friend and she was beyond furious. When Harry was brought to the entrance courtyard of the castle all fighting stopped. Harry was dead and in the arms of Hagrid.

Hermione could see Voldemort talking, likely taunting them, but she didn't hear a word of it. Her attention was on Harry; her fury was already at breaking point.

Fred, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Remus, Tonks and Seamus. Her friends, her family; all dead. She had watched them die in front of her.

Fred... As he was crushed beneath a wall and Percy was severely injured as Fred pushed him out of the way as she rounded the corner. He died instantly, the smile still on his face as he had laughed at Percy making a joke.

Ginny... Bellatrix killed her with The Killing Curse and as a result both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley killed Bellatrix together, overpowering her in anger and anguish. Ginny's usually vibrant aura gone, dead.

Ron... Rodolphus Lestrange killed him with an archaic dark curse, but Hermione recognised it instantly. Ron collapsed to the floor as the curse passed effortlessly through his shield, as if it wasn't even there. It hit him square in his chest and blood started pouring out of every orifice. His mouth, his eyes, his nose, his ears. He drowned in his own blood in Hermione's arms. She knew the counter curse but she couldn't reach him in time and when she did the curse was almost finished with him. Moments later, her clothing was soaked in his blood and he was dead in her arms. Hermione allowed her magic to take over and she stood and turned her attention to the elder Lestrange brother. A few short minutes later and Lestrange dropped to the floor, dead at her feet.

Luna... She died by being hit with a stray Avada, she couldn't be sure who had cast it. The serene smile and glassy eyed look was still on her face.

Remus and Tonks... They had been over powered by Fenrir Greyback and his pack. She watched from a distance as they were ripped apart, defiled. But Kingsley and a few members of The Order dealt with them.

Seamus... He was killed by Dolohov. By the same fatal curse he had thrown at her in her fifth year in the Department of Mysteries. He dropped to the floor, not five feet away from her, a pool of blood covering the cobbled stone floor and soaking her shoes as it reached her. Hermione in turn killed Dolohov.

She couldn't stop it, her magic. Hermione had always known she was different, even when she first came to Hogwarts. There was something different about her magic, something she couldn't quite explain. It was more... potent. Yes, it was stronger than other witch's and wizard's magic. When she lost her temper she could feel her magic surrounding her in the air, begging to be released and put to use. She was positive that had never happened to any other person in the school.

Her ability to learn and perfect magic was unnatural. She had always been a brilliant student, studious and hard working, but she picked up both magical theory and practical work instantly. She cast spells with very little effort; she could do it in her sleep. She knew that wasn't normal, there was something different about her, but she didn't know what, and to be honest, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

When Hermione saw Harry's dead body cradled by the kind half-giant, she snapped, like before when she'd mercilessly killed the murderers of her friends. She gripped her wand tightly, feeling her skin burning as in protest. She could feel her magic building inside of her, consuming her, until she couldn't contain it anymore and it moved outwards and swarmed around the air. Everyone felt the strange and angry crackle in the atmosphere, but they didn't know where it came from.

Suddenly Voldemort's blood red eyes snapped to her and she saw them widen in surprise and his smug and taunting grin fell from his face as he stared at her. He looked at her strangely, slightly fearful maybe?

His eyes cut away from hers when Harry suddenly fell from Hagrid's arms; he hit the floor before he stood up and faced Voldemort. Before she knew it, they had both cast their final spells and the jet of colours collided violently. The fighting around them continued as everyone realised this would determine the end of the war and both sides wanted as less enemies as possible to deal with in the aftermath.

Hermione was drawn into a duel with Rabastan Lestrange. They were fighting fiercely, him using dark curses and Hermione using magic that would be questionable, considered grey magic at best if brought up in topics. She caught his arm with a powerful Slicing Hex and her attention was drawn away from her opponent. She saw it, four first years were being cornered by two werewolves. She couldn't understand what they were doing there; they should've been in the dungeons guarded!

Her eyes flashed and the anger that flooded during each death of her friends came back with a vengeance. She sliced her wand through the air with a considerable amount of force and dark magic. She had to resort to using certain dark spells for survival. The beam of orange light shattered Lestrange's shield and hit him in the throat, he fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood, dead. Hermione didn't have time to reflect on the fact that she'd once again taken a human life, she had to protect the first years.

She took off at a run, darting between duels and sending spells where she could to help those she past.

"Bombarda Maxima," she yelled, her wand pointed in the direction of the two werewolves cornering the first years.

They were blasted away from the first years with such a force that their backs hit against the wall and despite all the noise around her, she heard the sickening cracks of a broken neck. Two more deaths to add to her count. She steered the first years into the castle and to the first room she found, a broom closet. She ushered them inside and she closed the door and warded it the best she could, putting some of her own magic into the wards to strengthen them.

She turned and headed back to the battle outside, intent on finishing what she'd started. She reached the entrance courtyard in time to see the two spells from Harry and Voldemort fade and they both collapsed to the ground, dead.

Hermione screamed in anguish, her throat burning, her eyes stinging and her chest feeling as though it'd been split open and her heart was being ripped out of her.

In her despair she was distracted and a spell was sent her way. It hit her directly on the back and she fell to the ground. A series of crosses on the skin of her back opened up and poured with blood. She knew this curse. Sectumsempra. But this was different, she had been hit with a Sectumsempra during her time at Malfoy Manor and she could feel the difference in the spell. This was a modified version and she just knew that no one would be able to heal her. She was going to die.

 _'Well, I've had a good run,'_ she thought to herself as her eyes closed.

The Golden Trio was dead.

~000~000~000~

 **The Meadow**

Hermione awoke with her face pressed against something soft and warm, and it tickled her cheek and nose. She opened her eyes and slowly pushed herself up until she sat up, her hands pressed against the soft surface. She looked around with curious eyes and she could feel the smile that pulled at her mouth.

She was in a beautiful meadow.

She could hear birds singing and chirping away in the distance, the bright blue sky was clear of any clouds and the sun beamed down on her, surrounding her like a warm, soft blanket. The meadow was filled with brightly coloured tulips and poppies, daffodils and daisies, sunflowers and lavender. The grass below her was the brightest shade of green she had ever seen and soft and warm, tickling her fingers as she pressed her hand further in to it.

She slowly rose to her knees and climbed to her feet, her eyes darting downwards and taking in her new appearance. She was barefoot with the grass beneath her tickling her toes, she was clad in a soft and simple white sundress that fell to her knees and it had capped sleeves. The skirt flowed lightly in the slight breeze that hit her skin, and her hair was left down in ringlets and pinned back from her face.

There was no dirt, no blood, no injuries, but most importantly... there was no pain. She remembered the battle. Where was she and why was she not in pain?

She spun on her heel and her eyes searched her new surroundings when she heard a noise, a noise she was sure did not belong in the beautiful meadow. She saw a man heading her way. He was wearing light blue robes, which he left open showing off a plain white t-shirt and black trousers. He had short brown hair and they breeze disturbed it as he approached her, his fair skin looked to glow in the sunlight and his chocolate brown eyes twinkled. He had kind features, high cheekbones and a bright smile that showed perfectly white teeth. He didn't look to be old either, Hermione would've said no older than late twenties, maybe early thirties. Hermione quickly looked down; feeling embarrassed over the fact the man was handsome, very handsome.

He stopped not far in front of her and she titled her head to look up at him, seeing as he was quite a bit taller than her.

"Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?" She asked. It was the only thing that made sense. It was the only possible explanation that would describe what she was experiencing.

"No, My Child, you aren't, and this not," he said kindly. His voice was soft and charming, she noted.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the phase before passing to the afterlife. You are not quite dead, but not quite alive either. It's difficult to explain," he chuckled.

"How did I get here?"

"I brought you here, I saved you from death," he replied.

"Why? Who are you?"

"My name is Merlin."

Her eyes widened and then she started laughing. He chuckled at her reaction.

"No, seriously, who are you?" She asked when she calmed.

"I truly am Merlin, Hermione," he said kindly. She looked at him in disbelief. "Not what you were expecting?" He asked with a raised eyebrow and a look of amusement in his eyes.

"No, to be honest, I was expecting Merlin to be wearing purple robes with gold stars and have a matching pointed hat. Given his age, many, many wrinkles, silver-white long hair and beard and a staff with a glowing glass orb."

He chuckled at her and he raised his hand and waved it in a small arch motion. Before her eyes he transformed into the exact description she had just given. Her eyes widened and he laughed as he turned himself back into his previous, younger and handsome self.

"That was me back when I was alive; this is me when I was younger. Now that I am in the afterlife I can look any way I wish to, people don't tend to be intimidated by my power when I look like this. Besides, I rather like the fashion of this century, very comfortable."

"Your dialect is different than what I thought it would be," she commented, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her dress nervously. She couldn't help it. She was in the presence of bloody Merlin himself!

"I've got to keep up the modern times, haven't I?"

She nodded dumbly, before clearing her throat to ask her next question. "Why did you save me?"

"That is a long story, My Child. What do you know of me?" He asked her, a curious look crossing his face.

Hermione bit her lip in thought. "Well..."

For nearly two hours they walked through the meadow together, with Merlin explaining in great detail about all that had occurred in his life. He explained of how for the past one thousand years, he returned to the land of the living to create an heir, and had been unsuccessful until, finally, Hermione was born and healthy.

Her head was spinning. Merlin was her Father!

No, it couldn't be, her Father was Richard Granger. She looked like him; she had inherited his wild curls, his love of books and his awful singing. Her mother was Jean Granger. She'd inherited her love of cooking, her smile and her silly, but endearing habit of rearranging the fridge magnets to leave messages every morning.

He couldn't be her Father, he just couldn't. It was impossible. Impossible!

"It's impossible," she whispered.

He looked down at her with a soft and kind smile on his face and with understanding held in his eyes.

"I am sorry to tell you that it's not. Richard and Jean Granger adopted you when you were six months old. I'm saddened to inform you that your biological Mother died in an accident. I can show you my memories if you would like."

Hermione grimaced; she did not want to see _that_. "No thanks," she replied. He chuckled at the look on her face. "I need a moment," she whispered and then she sank to the floor. Merlin nodded and sat down beside her, close enough to give her comfort but far away enough that she had her own space.

 _'Could it be true?'_ She thought to herself. _'Why would one of the most powerful wizards to walk the Earth lie about being my Father?'_ It made no sense!

She didn't know how long she sat in silence, trying to sort through her thoughts and filing away the new information she'd been given about her life, but she finally pulled her eyes from the ground and she looked up at him and her eyes searched his face, looking for any similarities between them. She wished she had a mirror. Suddenly a hand held mirror popped in front of her and floated in the air. She cautiously reached out and took it in her hand, holding it away from herself and staring at herself reflected in the surface.

She had soft mahogany curls that fell to the middle of her back, and they were a confusing mixture of wild and tame. She had delicate fair skin that had been scarred, but scars could be covered, at least her face didn't bear evidence of her years at war. She had a small button nose, large chocolate brown eyes and small, plump pink lips with a perfect white smile. She looked up at Merlin once more and saw him looking at her softly and she took the opportunity to catalogue his appearance once more, this time taking her time in doing so.

Fair skin, chocolate brown eyes, mahogany coloured hair and a perfect smile. She looked at herself in the hand held mirror once more and sighed. She admitted to herself, begrudgingly, that she did look like him, more so than she did Richard Granger.

"I'm the only one to survive, your only child?" She said quietly.

He nodded and a sad look crossed his face. "During my living years I had a son, Egbert; sadly he died at the age of two due to illness. After my death I returned to Earth to conceive an heir. He died in the womb along with the Mother. My third child died in the winter before his third birthday. My fourth child died in the womb. All of them boys. You are my fifth child and you survived. I suspect it's due to modern medicine; child birth and child development is a lot safer this century, and you have a strong magical core, stronger than most. I had already lost four children, four sons. I was not going to lose my daughter. I will not lose you."

"I am sorry," she said.

He smiled and nodded. "I am glad that you survived. I watched you grow." She looked at him in surprise and he chuckled. "I watched you say your first word, take your first steps, read your first book, your first magical outburst, your first spell. I saw it all, I was there every step of the way, watching over you. You weren't able to see me, but I was always there and you were never alone, My Child. I imagine that says a lot about you, that you survived. You are destined for great things, you _have_ done great things."

"I have killed people," she said disgusted at herself and she could feel her eyes tearing up as every life she took flashed through her mind. Evil or not, she had killed them.

"You saved lives, you protected people, you did what was necessary. I couldn't be more proud of you."

"I used dark magic."

"There is no dark magic and there is no light magic. Magic is just magic. It just is. It's what a person does with it that counts. Just because a spell is complicated and archaic doesn't mean it's dark. Just because it _can_ cause damage or harm doesn't mean it's dark. A simple Aquamenti can be used to drown someone. A simple Reducto can blow a person into smithereens if there is enough emotion and power behind it," he explained.

She knew that, that was how she and Mrs. Weasley had killed Bellatrix. Their emotions, their sadness, grief and anger had powered their magic and it had reacted violently when they collided, instantly killing Bellatrix. Hermione wondered if there was something wrong with her when she felt sad in knowing that Bellatrix hadn't suffered beforehand.

"But those that practice dark magic cannot cast a patronus, it would kill them."

"That is true," he nodded. "However, as I said before, it's what you do with the spell that counts. If you use the magic for horrific acts, the magic will _become_ dark. 'Dark' magic is contaminating. It can take over a person, poison them. I am of the understanding that you have witnessed it more than once in your life."

Hermione nodded in response. She could think of a few examples; Voldemort, Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Dolohov, Greyback, she could go on forever.

"So what am I?" She asked, changing the subject and looking down at the barley month old scar on her arm. The ugly red and jaggered lettering reading, 'Mudblood'.

His eyes fell to her arm and upon seeing the hurt that had been done to his daughter, he felt anger wash over him. He hadn't felt anger in a long time and it took him a moment to take a calming breath and reign in his emotions. "You are a Half-blood; your biological Mother was a muggle."

"Why a muggle?" She asked curiously.

"First of all, the Mothers of my other children were all witches. A pattern was forming and none of them made it, neither did my sons. I wanted to try something different. Second of all, I wanted you to understand both worlds, Muggle and Wizarding. I wanted you to experience and witness the differences, to show you that muggles are not that different. You can easily survive in both worlds; you have knowledge of magic, but also of muggle traditions, history, art, education, politics, law enforcement, travel, behaviour and mannerisms. I know that you are an incredibly intelligent young woman. What was it that Dumbledore called you again? Ah. That's right, The Brightest Witch of your Age," he grinned at her proudly. "I am proud of you, Hermione. For every smile and laugh or frown and tear. For every kind comment or selfless act. For every spell cast, 'dark' and 'light.' For every friendship made and love found. For everyone you have protected or you had to eliminate."

"What am I doing here?" She asked, feeling a blush heat up her cheeks at his words.

"The war that you fought in, it never should've occurred. The prophecy regarding your best friend, it should've never come to light. We've watched but we couldn't interfere."

"We?" She asked curiously.

"Yes, we. The Elders. We watch over the world, but we don't intervene unless it is absolutely necessary. This war was never supposed to happen but we knew that Voldemort would be defeated, we did not, however, know as to what it would cost."

"Elders?"

He smiled at her. "Always on the hunt for knowledge, just like I was in my time," he chuckled. "The Elders are made up of the most powerful witches and wizards to walk have the Earth. Light and otherwise."

"Like who?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you," he replied amused.

"You also weren't supposed to stop me from dying," she fired back.

"I see your point," he chuckled. "Besides myself there is Circe, Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, The Peverell Brothers and Morgana le Fay."

"Sounds fun," she said sarcastically.

He laughed at her. "Some days there are arguments, but for the most part everyone gets along nicely."

"Again, why am I here?"

"I wish to change the events that happened, I wish to stop the suffering you, your friends and the world felt. We should've stepped in long before it happened. We had watched over Tom Riddle since his birth, his magic was different from the very moment he was born."

"I'm sure Slytherin is proud," she muttered and he frowned at her.

"Actually he was disappointed in the way the last living Heir of Slytherin behaved." Her eyes shot up to him. "Salazar is severely misunderstood."

"He wished to ban Muggleborns from the Wizarding World. He didn't think they were worthy. He kept a dangerous creature under the school. A creature that petrified me."

"He is sorry that you fell victim to the basilisk. Salazar didn't hate Muggleborns, he was just wary of them. Back in those days witches and wizards were few, they were in hiding. He was travelling when he met a witch, a witch that could manipulate things around her, including her body."

"Transfiguration?"

"Correct," he said proudly. "He wished for her to join him on his travels around the world, searching for more witches and wizards. However, before they could leave, the witch was brutally murdered by muggles, who had witnessed her changing into her Animagus form. From that point Salazar hated muggles, he realised they posed a threat to our kind. When he formed Hogwarts with the others, he didn't wish to accept Muggleborns due to their ties to the Muggle World. Ideals and beliefs were seriously lost over the years, translations were misinterpreted."

"Chinese whispers," she said with a frown. "That I can understand, but why the basilisk?"

"It was for protection. Protection of the students and the staff, to protect the castle in case there was ever an attack from muggles. That's why Hogwarts is in the middle of the Scottish Mountains, out of sight out of mind. We have witnessed that blood has no tie with magic potential, power and ability. Dumbledore, Riddle, Harry, you," he listed.

"Me?"

He smiled at her. "We both know you're more powerful than most magical folk. The reason for that being, you have a very strong magical core, as well as I being your Father."

"I've always known I was different. Even at Hogwarts. I could cast spells no one else could. I read a magical theory and I understood it completely. It took few tries to perfect a new spell. It was effortless for me."

"All the dangerous run-ins you've had over the years, most of them should've killed you." She looked at him confused. "Your fifth year, you were hit by that curse from Antonin Dolohov, despite the fact that you silenced him, that curse would've still been powerful enough to kill you. The reason you survived was your magic, it was keeping you alive until you could be healed. Malfoy Manor, that should've killed you, but your magic kept you alive until you could be healed. You're special, Hermione," he said softly. "But back to the point at hand, I wish to send you back, but this time you will be prepared."

"Back? Back to where?"

"The past, I wish to send you back to Tom Riddle's school days. Your mission is to stop him from making any Horcruxes and watch over him, prevent him from becoming what he does."

"You want me to babysit him?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I wouldn't have phrased it in that way, but essentially, yes. For the next year, you will remain here with me." He could see the questions she wished to ask in her eyes. "You will remain here for the next year so that I can teach you. You will learn many magical skills that will aid you in your mission and keep you safe. I will teach you both Legilimency and Occlumency and you will master them, better than Severus Snape," he joked and she smiled a small smile.

"I will teach you how to harness your magic, how to make your spell casting even simpler, how to strengthen your protective shields and offensive magic. I have been dead for over thirteen hundred years. I have witnessed a lot during my life and my afterlife. I will teach you spells that have long since been forgotten, that magical folk don't even know exist anymore. I will teach you wandless and non-verbal magic because they are an incredible tool to have in your arsenal."

"Wandless and non-verbal magic is extremely difficult."

"Not really, you are powerful therefore everything comes easier to you, and back in my time wands never existed. The closest conductor we had to a wand was my staff. Wands weren't invented until after my death, therefore once upon a time, all magic was done wandlessly." Her eyes shone with anticipation and he chuckled.

"How do you know that I will accept this mission?"

"I have watched you, I have gotten to know you, I know you better than you know yourself, I know you would never turn down the opportunity help someone who needs it. And also, you don't really have a choice."

She snorted. "So you will train me in the art of magic, to be like you and after a year I will be sent to Riddle's time to change the past?"

"Precisely, the past should never be messed with, but this is now a must. Time works differently here. A year here would be twelve minutes on Earth. And you won't feel the need to sleep or to eat. It will fly by, I promise you. I'll give you a few moments to get your bearings and then we will start your training."

* * *

AN – so, what do you think so far? I hate writing the first chapter as it's the foundation of any good fic, and it's always the most difficult to write. It gets better, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

Bloody hell! I wasn't expecting the response this fanfic has gotten, especially since it's only been twenty-four hours since posting. You guys have blown me away with all of your follows, favourites and reviews. And for that, I couldn't help but give you the next chapter so soon.

As I said before, I only have the first few chapters written, but I also have a fair few chapters written which I plan to use in the middle of the plot line. I do this all the time. I suddenly get an idea and I'm able to write an entire chapter on it, and despite it not following on from the previous chapter written, I know that I absolutely want to include it, so I have to wait until I can slot it into the fic at the right time. I have six chapters written that are to be used somewhere in the middle. It sounds strange, but I promise it actually works for me.

Also, I think the story line for this fic is probably going to go at a faster pace compared to my others, at least, judging by what I've written so far I do.

And before I forget, this is a **Hermione/Tom pairing.**

 **Q &A**

Ash – Yes, Hermione is going to travel to the past, as you'll see in this chapter, and Grindelwald has not yet been defeated. He is still a problem that needs to be taken care of.

Hitsugaya Ren – Yes, this is a Hermione/Tom pairing. There will be no Newt Scamander appearing, you are correct about Tom trying to seduce Hermione, and I'm going to have a little fun with that. And whether Dumbledore is a bad guy, at the moment I'm trying to have him stay neutral, but that may change either way later in the fic so we'll see.

Guest - I promise, I'm still working on Pack Life, after posting the last chapter the muse is now being very uncooperative but I'm hoping to have another chapter written and posted within the next couple of weeks.

Sab81790 – In this fic it'll be Tom that has to try to keep up with Hermione. Tom is going to be dark, but I don't have the talent for writing that sort of character, so it'll likely be less so than in other fics you may have read with him in. I'm going to have a lot of fun with him trying to seduce her to the dark side and Hermione constantly rejecting him. If you've seen my other fics, you'll know have much I love writing a sassy, bossy and no nonsense Hermione.

SereniteRose – I'm happy to be able to do this for you. Like you said, it was your idea, I've just helped you bring it to life. You've been with me from the very beginning and I love reading your comments on each of my fics, and I thought it about time I made a start on your request to thank you for your amazing and continuous support.

Wizards N Dragons Realm – Way ahead of you on Merlin's vaults. I guess great minds really do think alike. I plan for Hermione to stay in the past, and to have her paired with Tom.

* * *

Page count: 10

* * *

 **The Meadow**

"I am proud of you, My Daughter," Merlin said with a smile and Hermione smiled at him in return.

It was time for her to leave for her mission. She had spent a year with her Father, Merlin, not that it felt like it, time didn't pass in the meadow, the place that had become her safety, her serenity.

She had finished her training and she knew more about her magic than she ever thought possible. But not only did she understand her own magic better, her Father had also taught her everything he knew and everything he had witnessed in the millennia he had been both dead and alive. She knew magic that most didn't even know existed; she knew magic that had long since been forgotten, magic that would more than certainly protect her from Tom Riddle, her target.

The plan was to go back to the time of Tom Riddle's Hogwarts years and stop him from making Horcruxes. Then she was to stop him from ever instigating a war and killing so many innocent people. Simple. Okay, not really, but her Father had faith in her which made her feel better.

"Thank you, Father." She had never seen someone look so happy at the mention of that one word.

"You have completed your training and now it is time for you to leave. You will be sent back to September 1st 1942, this gives you plenty of time to complete your mission. You know your cover story?"

"Yes, I will be a transfer student. My parents were killed by Grindelwald's men and I escaped. I was homeschooled and I am now completing my education at Hogwarts, whilst staying with a cousin," she recalled and he nodded.

"Do you have the de-ageing potion?" She nodded in reply. "Clothing, school supplies and books are already waiting for you at Hogwarts, along with anything else you require. Arrangements have been made and you have access to your inheritance at Gringotts, a few drops of your blood against the vault door will reopen the accounts and it will all be yours. King Arthur paid me very well for my services," he answered the question she had been about to ask him. "The goblins are bound by magic to not reveal your identity or existence once the records show that the vault has been activated. You do not have a vault key as you will not need one. Ask to be taken to vault zero-five-phoenix-camelot." She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"The goblins may not treat you kindly until it is proven you are my heir. They will provide you with a silver dagger, which you will use to place a small cut on your left palm and you should press it against the vault door. No one but you will be able to access the vault, and once it has been reactivated, your presence alone will open the vault, hence the reason for a key not being needed. Now it is time, Good luck, Hermione."

"Thank you, before I go, what will my name be?"

"Hermione Nilrem," he answered.

She raised an eyebrow. "Could you be any more obvious?"

"People are not as observant as they once used to be," he chuckled and then he clapped his hands and his staff appeared.

Hermione took the opportunity to search her surroundings one last time, knowing she would never see the beautiful meadow that had been home to her again. She would miss the soft, warm grass tickling her feet, she would miss the peaceful sounds of the birds singing and chirping, she would miss the smell of the flowers, and the feel of the sun warming her skin. But most of all, she would miss the time she had spent with her Father.

"What's your first name? I've been here a year, I've learned a lot about you, but I don't know your name."

"That has long since been forgotten, people once referred to me as Emrys."

With that he raised his staff and with a tap against the floor, Hermione vanished.

"Call for me and I will come."

She heard his voice call in the distance as she felt herself spinning and spinning, being pulled into a black abyss.

~000~000~000~

 **Hogsmeade Village - Monday 18th September 1944**

Hermione landed on her feet and wobbled slightly.

"Ow!" She muttered, bringing a hand up to her aching head, she felt slightly dizzy and wobbled on her feet again, but she regained her balance quickly and the pain and fuzziness vanished moments later.

She looked around and a small smile lit her face, she would recognise Hogsmeade anywhere, it was exactly the same as it had been in her third year. Quaint little shops, eye popping displays and passersby slowly perusing the shops. The only differences being the buildings didn't look as aged and the distinct lack of dementors and Death Eaters. She slowly walked down the pathway until she came across a discarded newspaper.

She caught something in the corner of her eye and she rushed over to the newspaper and picked it up. She cursed with what she saw.

"Father!" She called, making sure no one was around. Her Father suddenly appeared in front of her.

"My Dear Child, you have been gone but ten minutes, what trouble could you have possibly gotten yourself into?" He asked, sounding amused.

She handed him the newspaper, he looked at her confused before his eyes focused on what had caught her attention. The date.

 _Monday 18th September 1944_

"Ah, that is problematic," he commented.

"Problematic? I'm two years later than we planned."

"Time is a tricky subject that not even I can master."

She sighed. "What are we going to do? By 1944 Tom Riddle has already created two Horcruxes, which means he's already killed two people. He has already formed his Death Eaters in training and is Head Boy."

"We'll have to change the plan slightly, prevent him from making anymore and try and find where he is keeping the Horcruxes and find a way to destroy them, preferably without killing him."

"I already know how to destroy them."

"Yes, but it would kill him, we don't want that," he reminded and she sighed. "The rest of the plan is as normal, keep your head down, don't get in trouble, don't get noticed. You will be a shadow, a fly on the wall which nobody pays attention to."

"I know."

"Now, let's try this again," he chuckled and he disappeared from sight.

Hermione sighed and made her way up to the Hogwarts gates, which magically opened for her, closing when she stepped through.

~000~000~000~

 **Hogwarts**

She made her way through the grounds encountering no students or professors. When she reached the gargoyle statue, she stood there, not knowing the password.

Thankfully someone she could only guess was a professor came walking down the corridor towards her.

He was wearing electric blue robes with neon red stars and a matching pointed hat, he had long auburn hair and a long beard and bright blue twinkling eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles. Something was familiar about him.

"Ah, My Dear, you must be our new transfer student, I'm Professor Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster; I'll be your Transfiguration Professor."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, ' _bloody hell,'_ she thought.

"Yes, Sir, I'm Hermione Nilrem," she said, making sure to shuffle on her feet so that she looked nervous in a place she hadn't been before.

"I am sorry that we are meeting under these circumstances, I am sorry for your loss, Miss Nilrem."

"Thank you," she muttered.

"Perhaps we should meet with Headmaster Dippet," he suggested and Hermione nodded.

Dumbledore stepped around her and whispered the password and the gargoyles spun, revealing the staircase. Dumbledore took the lead, and knocking on the door when he reached the top of the staircase.

He entered and Hermione followed after her, her eyes scanning her surroundings. The office she entered was nothing like Dumbledore's cluttered but organised mess, with bowls of candy littering his desk. Headmaster Dippet's was virtually empty, with simple furnishings and the portraits of every headmaster before him covering the walls. There were a few piles of parchment sat in front of him on his desk, but the rest was empty except for some ink and a quill.

"Armando," Dumbledore nodded in greeting.

Hermione turned her attention to the man sat behind the desk in the wingback chair. He looked old, far older than Dumbledore had in her time. He didn't stand when they entered; she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to or if he physically couldn't. He wore what looked to be a black sleep hat and brown striped robes, his hair a silver-grey colour and his eyes brown, with many a wrinkle surrounding them. He looked so frail Hermione wasn't surprised that Dumbledore would take over as Headmaster within the next few years.

"This is Miss. Nilrem."

"The transfer student," he croaked.

Godric! He sounded like he would kick the bucket right then and there.

"We don't get many transfers," he commented.

"I was home schooled, Sir," Hermione replied quietly.

"Tragic what happened to your parents, it seems they prepared for the worst. We have received your OWL results, twelve subjects; that's very impressive."

"Thank you."

"You will be allowed to continue with your studies, but first you must be sorted, it's tradition," the old Headmaster spoke, before nodding to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore retrieved the sorting hat. "The sorting hat will determine which house you will be most suited to," he explained kindly.

She nodded. "I know, Hogwarts a History is my favourite book," she said shyly.

He was surprised by her statement but he didn't respond as he placed the hat on her head.

 _"Well, Miss. Granger, or should I say Merlin? You have travelled a long way from home haven't you? And for such a task, I am impressed. Where should we put you? You have to be cunning to pull off this task, however, you need to be unnoticeable and a new snake in the snake pit will surely turn heads. Slytherin is not a viable option. You are undeniably brave and I see you were a lion in your time; however, a Gryffindor that keeps to themselves will also be obvious, Gryffindor's not for you this time around. Hufflepuff – you do have kindness in you, but you have been affected by what you have seen and what you have done, an unhappy Hufflepuff cannot be possible. That just leaves, Ravenclaw. You have undeniably one of the most knowledgeable minds I have ever had the pleasure of seeing into. You thrive on learning and a Ravenclaw that doesn't interact will go unnoticed, students of the house may not even notice your arrival. This is good; this is the place where you will be safest."_

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat bellowed.

Dumbledore removed the hat from her head and put it back on its stool in the corner of the room, and it went into hibernation until it was needed once more.

"Congratulations, Miss. Nilrem, I dare say after seeing your OWL results, Ravenclaw will suit you well," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you."

"Unfortunately, there is no space in the Ravenclaw dorm rooms as we only received word of your arrival five days ago and all dorm rooms are full. As a result you will be given your own dorm room, which you will not have to share; we feel that it is best to give you some privacy in regards to your tragic circumstances. You will still have access to the Ravenclaw common room, if you so wish," Dumbledore spoke and she thanked them shyly.

It just made her mission a whole lot easier.

Dumbledore waved his wand over a blank piece of parchment and her class schedule appeared and he handed it to her.

"This is your class schedule, as you can see you have several independent study periods, we assume that being an only child and being homeschooled, that you are used to independent learning and it seems to have benefited you greatly, as seen with your examination results. We did not want to overwhelm you and with you taking twelve subjects, we thought it best to allow you some time for independent study."

"Thank you, Professor, I appreciate the kind sentiments," she spoke quietly and with her eyes locked on the floor.

Merlin! It was hard to pretend to be a shy, anxious little thing. She was Hermione Granger...Nilrem; she was bossy, opinionated and as far from a push over as someone could possibly be.

"I will take you to your dorm room; it must have been a long journey. It will give you time to change into your school robes before dinner."

Hermione thanked them and she followed Dumbledore through the castle until he reached the third floor. The castle had the exact same layout as it did in her time; nothing was different, not even the cobwebs and fogged up windows. Except she knew that most of the secret passageways still existed, which she would be taking full advantage of. Knowing the secrets of the castle came in very handy and could only benefit her.

Dumbledore led her over to a painting on the wall. It was a painting of a meadow scarily similar to her meadow, with a young girl, maybe seven or eight years old. She had long brown curls and bright brown eyes, her skin was pale and her face had a smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. The young girl was skipping through the grass with her white dress floating about her. She spun on her heel, laughing lightly and that's when she noticed their presence.

"Password?" she squeaked out, apparently excited to have a visitor.

"Corvum Nigrum," Dumbledore spoke. The little girl giggled before spun in a circle, her hair and dress floating around her and the painting swung open.

"This is where I leave you, Miss. Nilrem, dinner starts at six o'clock sharp. It is now two in the afternoon. That should give you plenty of time to unpack and explore your rooms and to find your way to the great hall. Your belongings should already be inside."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," she muttered, shuffling on her feet.

"We are in hard times, Miss. Nilrem, some of us have witnessed the darkness first hand."

He gave her a look that had her feeling like he was gazing into her very soul and she made sure to strengthen her newly learned occlumency shields as a precaution. No one was to know of her identity or mission, especially Dumbledore, and that had been her Father's wishes. Dumbledore may have been classed as a 'light' wizard, but no one could deny that he was a manipulative old fool, and should he discover her secret, it would not end well for her. No doubt he'd have her doing things for the _greater good_ , rather than completing the mission she had been given. She couldn't risk it, so as far as she was concerned, Dumbledore was not an ally, but he was not an enemy either. She had to tread very lightly.

"Until Transfiguration, Miss. Nilrem." He tipped his head slightly and then turned and disappeared down the corridor.

Hermione sighed in relief and stepped through the portrait sized hole in the wall and the painting swung closed behind her, finally allowing her chance to breathe.

She was surprised by what met her sight, she had assumed she would have her own bedroom, and possibly a bathroom, but she hadn't been expecting an entire suite to herself.

She had her own common room and it was a decent size too and decorated in neutral colours which surprised her. The walls were cream and chocolate brown, the cream walls had chocolate brown accents and the chocolate brown walls held cream coloured frames with empty spaces, which she supposed was for her to put up her own photographs. She had a large fireplace which was unlit but she imagined it would look beautiful during the evenings and it would warm the room up nicely, especially during the winter months. She couldn't wait to curl up in front of it with a good book. She had a comfortable looking brown leather couch and a matching arm chair, with cream cushions and a cream wooden coffee table sat in-between them.

There was a brown carpet and a soft cream rug in front of the fireplace. Off to the left of the room was a small kitchenette and there was also a study desk with a chair and a dark bookcase beside it. There was a staircase off to the right and she left the common room to explore the upstairs.

She entered the room to the right, which was the bathroom. It was decorated in the same cream and chocolate brown as the rest of the suite, keeping to the same colour scheme. She had a large stand up shower and much to her delight, a bathtub she couldn't wait to take advantage of. She had a sink with a cupboard underneath it and a mirrored door cabinet above it, and there was a small linen closet which held towels and spare bed sheets.

She left the bathroom and headed into the final room, her bedroom.

It was beautiful. The walls were a calming blue and she had a soft white carpet. There was a white wardrobe and chest of drawers next to each other on the left wall. There was a large mirror in the corner of the room and her queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, the headboard against the wall with a small bedside table.

She walked over to the bed and she gingerly touched it. Silk sheets. She shook her head, obviously her Father had sent more comfort items, more than she needed but she had spent a year in a tent, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The soft white silk sheets covered her mattress and the quilt cover was made of the palest blue silk she had ever seen, with matching pillows, she could only image what it would be like to sleep in. She noticed that 'Hermione' had been sewn into the silk in the corners of the sheets and pillows and she chuckled with a shake of her head. Well, the house-elves certainly wouldn't mistake her belongings for another's if they were all monogrammed.

She caught sight of the mirror and curiously walked over to it; she had never been a vain person, but she wished to see what she looked like in the fashion of Wizarding 1940's.

She was wearing a soft floral dress that fell just below her knees and had capped sleeves. The material appeared to be white cotton with red flowers positioned strategically, on her feet she wore white shoes, with a two inch heel she would never wear again. Her hair was left down her back in ringlets, but pulled back from her face showing her slender neck and chocolate brown eyes. She knew that her hair would be considered odd, seeing as it was longer than most girls in Wizarding 1940's, who tended to have their hair shoulder length at best, whereas hers fell to her mid-back, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. It might make her stick out, but she could just wear her hair up and no one would notice.

The uniform though, that was one thing Hermione would have trouble wearing. She went to her trunk and pulled out the black robes, a grey blazer, a grey v-neck jumper, her grey skirt, a white shirt, a plain black tie and her grey knee high socks and she found her black and appropriate t-bar shoes.

With a wave of her wand she was out of her dress and wearing her uniform. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She didn't like it; it was weird.

Her robes now had blue lining the edges and the Ravenclaw crest on the right side breast. Under her robes she had on the grey blazer which she didn't like; it was itchy and heavy, making her look bigger than her petite frame actually was. Her skirt was longer than she was used to, it falling to her mid-shin and she hated it. Absolutely hated it! The material brushed against her skin every time she moved and she knew it was going to get on her nerves.

Her knee high socks were made of the same scratchy material that her blazer was and she realised that she would have to do something that too. The only items she didn't have a problem with were her shoes which were actually quite comfortable, her tie which had changed to blue and bronze stripes, her cashmere jumper and her white cotton shirt. She would have to change the blazer, socks and skirt in some way.

And so she decided to skip dinner, not really being that hungry anyway.

She went about unpacking her trunk and she was grateful that she found her beaded bag in there; it contained everything from her previous life, the only anchor to her time.

She sent all her clothing into her wardrobe and she almost squealed when she still had many pairs of jeans and jumpers, that wouldn't be appropriate in the 1940's but she could still wear them in the privacy of her rooms, and she hung up her uniforms and newly purchased dresses and robes, before promptly changing into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, feeling like herself and much more comfortable. She sent her undergarments to pack away in her chest of drawers as well as the silk night gowns, flannel pajamas and several pair of short suits.

She then flicked her wand and all her books, from her beaded bag and trunk, followed her downstairs to the bookcase. She had to perform some Enlargement Charms and Warding Spells, but all the books soon fit into the bookcase. She had her school books, but also many a book on dark and grey magic that she knew were illegal, but it seemed her Father had found a way to get them into Hogwarts undetected.

She then flicked her wand and all parchment, ink pots and quills were organised on her study desk neatly and precisely. She then dug through her beaded bag and found several old photographs which she would put up in the photo frames surrounding the room.

She found a photograph taken at Grimmauld, with every Weasley present, along with Harry, herself, Remus and Sirius. She promptly enlarged it and placed it in one of the two photo frames over the fireplace. She continued the process around the room until she came to a photo she wasn't even aware of being in possession of.

It was a photo of Hermione and Merlin taken in the meadow. She didn't know how he did it, but he had. He had been trying to teach her an elemental spell and it hadn't gone to plan, the results of the spell pulling them both in a fit of laughter. She could see the happiness in their eyes when they turned to her and waved, acknowledging her presence. A smile pulled at her mouth, and she enlarged the photograph and placed it in the other frame above the fireplace, next to the one taken at Grimmauld.

She was done. She had been careful and made sure to only use photographs that wouldn't reveal anything about the future or locations. Of course she had to do a few charms to distort the clothing somewhat, but most of the time they had been wearing plain robes.

Hermione smiled at her completed work. She then turned on her heel and headed to her bookcase, pulling down the oldest copy of Hogwarts a History she had, luckily it was from 1939, most recent to her current time frame.

She spent all night reading and when she had found her answer to her uniform problems, she went to bed a happy witch.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **Q &A**

Leonix2009 - Hermione is not going to be the dark lady in the sense that she is evil, it's more of the fact that she is to be paired with Tom, as his partner and equal.

Sab81790 – So very, very true...

Varanus Salvator & Fairyblue1132 - I don't plan to have Hermione moving into the Ravenclaw dorm rooms. I have given her, her own rooms for a reason and she won't have time to feel lonely either...

Roon0 – I have her with a room full of suspicious books and photographs for a reason, after all, do you think Merlin would provide her with those reading materials if he didn't have a plan? Possibly a plan Hermione wasn't aware of just yet, and one that will be revealed soon...

* * *

Page count: 8

* * *

 **Tuesday 19th September 1944**

Hermione awoke from the best night's sleep she had ever had; her silk bedding had been soft and cool against her bare skin where her night gown had ridden up and she felt better than she had in a long time.

She heard the flapping of wings and sat up in bed, confusion entering her mind.

There was a beautiful phoenix flying around her room, before it swooped down and landed on the foot of her bed board, its talons gripping the material tightly, but she didn't care.

The phoenix was tiny, maybe the size of a loaf of bread, indicating its age to be very young. It had soft looking feathers, a fiery red and golden yellow, and she noticed a few of its tail feathers had blue hues in it. Its large black eyes were trained on her and she noticed the small package held in its beak by a bit of string.

"Is that for me?" she asked the small, rare creature.

The phoenix nodded and Hermione slowly reached over and removed the package from its beak and she jumped when the phoenix rubbed its head against her hand and she gingerly gave it a stroke.

Hermione then looked to the package and the note that accompanied it, and she thought it best to open the note first.

 _Hermione, My Dear Daughter,_

 _Happy eighteenth birthday, I am sorry that you cannot be with your friends but I hope this gift more than makes up for it. Her name is Athena, named after the Greek Goddess of Wisdom, Courage, Inspiration and Justice. She is now yours, treat her well as I know you will and she will show you loyalty and companionship._

 _Try not to parade her around, as I know you won't, but still, just a reminder. You wish to stay under the radar and having a phoenix will surely do the opposite. If you wish to contact me through letters, she will know where to deliver them._

 _I know you will do me proud, My Daughter, just as you have since the day you were born._

 _Love, Your Father_

Hermione looked away from the letter in surprise and up to the small phoenix.

"Athena," she whispered. The phoenix flew away from the foot of the bed board and landed onto Hermione's shoulder gently, being careful not to hurt her with her talons.

"It seems it's just you and me, Girl. What do you think? Can we save the world?"

Athena gave an adorable squawk and Hermione chuckled and scratched Athena's head. Hermione then opened the small box and realised that it had been shrunken down and so she enlarged it.

With a flick of her wand the contents of the box emptied and settled in the room. There were several bags of treats for Athena, as well as a wooden perch for her to reside on and there was a smaller box, which she opened to reveal a thin silver chain with a phoenix pendent on, and with a sapphire for the phoenix's eye.

Another note was at the bottom.

 _Hermione,_

 _As you know, the phoenix is my patronus and I was elated to see that yours is too, please keep this pendant close to you and I will never be too far away._

Hermione smiled and slipped the pendent on around her neck, feeling it tighten so it better fit her and the pendent fell into the valley of her breasts.

She too had been surprised that her patronus was a phoenix, especially with it once being an otter. But it connected her to her Father. Having a phoenix patronus was rare, _very_ rare, particularly with the only other known person to have the magical creature as their patronus being Albus Dumbledore.

The phoenix represents strength and fire, which Hermione knew she had plenty of, and she knew she was stubborn and quick to anger, which she hated to admit. It represented growth and rebirth and in a sense, Hermione had been reborn. She wasn't the same person she once was when she was eleven years old. No, now she wasn't as naive, she was cautious and rarely trusted anyone. She was stronger and more knowledgeable; she had seen things no one should ever have to see, and done things no one should ever have to do. She was far from the eleven year old Muggleborn, Hermione Granger.

She was Hermione Merlin.

Hermione realised that she would have to head down to breakfast and if she didn't want to draw attention to herself, she would have to enter with the rest of the crowd in order to blend in.

With a wave of her wand she had Athena's wooden perch set up and in the corner of the room. Athena nipped her finger affectionately and flew over to the perch, landing happily.

Hermione climbed out of bed and headed for her bathroom. After taking a shower she put her hair up in a messy bun and dressed in her newly improved uniform.

She put on her white shirt and blue and bronze striped tie, she put on her newly adjusted skirt, so that it sat at her belly button and fell just above her knees, she put on a pair of white ankle socks and her t-bar shoes. Afterwards she put on her grey cashmere v-neck jumper and her robes over the top, leaving out the blazer completely.

She put her wand in her robe pocket and she laughed when she found a pair of thick black rimmed glasses and she put them on too. She didn't know why her Father wanted her to wear glasses, but it wouldn't hurt to put them on.

She looked at herself in the mirror and chuckled; it surprised her how she actually suited the glasses, making her look more intelligent and far less intimidating in her natural beauty. She needed people to think she was weak, a loner and the glasses surprisingly helped. She nodded to herself in approval.

She grabbed the satchel that had been in her trunk and quickly read through her class schedule for the day. When she memorised the lessons, she left to her common room and put the books she needed into her bag, along with some parchment, quills and ink pots.

She took another look at the photos and smiled sadly; she should be attending her final year with her friends and not the future Dark Lord. The thought just reminded her why she was there. She would keep her head down and stay out of trouble, how hard could it be? Given her track record the odds weren't in her favour, she realised with a sad chuckle.

She would surely get some looks from her fellow students and from her professors but she knew they wouldn't say anything because they would know about her circumstances.

She sighed and with a quick goodbye to Athena she left her room, and heading straight down to the great hall, she slipped inside with the bustling crowd and she made sure to sit at the end of the house table and she ate a simple breakfast, no one had noticed her presence for which she was grateful.

She quietly surveyed the great hall, students eating and talking, laughing, arguing and doing homework last minute, sights that she would see in her time, it was somewhat of a comfort knowing that some things never changed.

As her eyes flickered over the room, they landed on the Slytherin table and sat in the centre was her target, Tom Riddle. Her Father had shown her a photo of him as well as his followers, "know thy enemy," he told her.

She had been surprised at how handsome he had been, having only seen him as anything less than human, but she was floored at how much the photo of him hadn't done him credit.

And though she loathed admitting it, Tom Riddle was an exceptionally handsome young man. Black hair combed neatly and a slight wave to his fringe that fell just above his eyebrow. He had a chiselled jaw bone, icy blue eyes, a straight nose and thin lips with pale and unblemished skin. She didn't doubt he had a perfect smile that would melt the hearts of many a girl, and his uniform, or what she could see of it, was immaculate, not a wrinkle to be seen. He sat surrounded by his followers, quietly watching them as he sipped at his tea. He gave off the air of superiority and the appearance of a perfect little Pure-blood.

She snorted to herself. But she was not known for falling for a man's looks, and she would stay that way. She looked at the young men surrounding him, most of them easy to identify.

Thoros Nott sat next to Riddle. His light brown hair, the same colour as his future son's, but his green eyes darker and colder. He was tall and weedy and smirking at something that had been said to him. Next to Nott was Alfred Avery. Avery's hair was a mixture between brown and black, it was messy like it hadn't been brushed and it fell into his dark brown eyes. He appeared to be smaller than Nott, but just as thin.

Evan Rosier sat opposite Nott with his back to her. Short, dark brown hair that swept into his eyes slightly, and a large frame with broad shoulders. Sat next to Rosier was someone Hermione would recognise with her eyes closed, Lestrange, Richard Lestrange, the soon to be father of Rabastan and Rodolphus. He had short black hair and was a similar build to Rosier, except he was taller, she could see he had tanned skin, but the rest of him had his back to her.

The next boy sat on the other side of Lestrange, Hermione never wanted to see again, Antonin Dolohov, the man who had almost killed her at the young age of fifteen. He had light brown hair that fell covering his ears and broad shoulders, and despite not being able to see his face, she knew him to have eyes so dark they were borderline black, a straight nose and a chiselled jaw.

And finally the last boy was easily recognisable as Abraxas Malfoy, with the signature white blonde hair. He appeared to be of a larger frame than both his son and grandson; his shoulders broader but he was easily smaller in height, his blonde hair fell to just below his ears, shaggier than she had seen Draco's and Lucius'.

She was up against six teenage boys and the future Dark Lord. She had her work cut out for her and she hoped everything would go to plan, but based on past experiences, she knew not to get her hopes up as nearly everything almost always went wrong.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had been to her lessons and thankfully none of her professors had asked her to introduce herself, probably feeling sorry for the orphan who lost her parents less than a week ago. They didn't pull her up on her uniform either; she had turned a few heads, but no one paid attention longer than a few seconds before turning away from her.

She was now at her last lesson of the day, Potions, and unfortunately it was with Slughorn. She had not missed the biased Potion's Master, showering praises on his favourites and sucking up to students with famous or politically powerful parents.

She knew she would have to introduce herself the minute his eyes landed on her. A large grin lit his face and she had to physically stop herself from groaning and repeatedly hitting her head against the table.

She had only been there for five minutes and she already detested the man, it seemed the only thing that had changed about him in the future was the added wrinkles, everything else, the same, _exactly_ the same.

He clapped his hands gaining the attention of the class. "Class, we have a new student, a transfer," he gestured to Hermione.

She tried, she really did, but she was unable to stop the glare she sent his way, but he didn't seem to notice. He practically dragged her out of her seat and in front of the class, who all stared at her. She knew she would have to act like the shy and anxious new girl, though it went against her nature.

"Please tell the class your name."

"Hermione Nilrem," she spoke quietly and looking down at the floor, refusing to make contact with anyone.

"And why are you here?"

"I'm a transfer."

"Yes, but why are you a transfer?"

"I don't think that's important, all that matters is that I am here to complete my education," she felt herself bristle, but she hoped it didn't show in her voice.

"I suppose it doesn't matter, but we are intrigued, we don't get a lot of transfers."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up, openly glaring at Slughorn and no longer trying to hide the fact that she disliked him.

"Then you'll have to remain curious, I may have been previously home schooled, but I was taught that it is rude to pry into other's private matters."

Slughorn looked scolded with his cheeks turning pink, Hermione knew she shouldn't have snapped, but she had always had a short fuse. She quickly looked down at the floor, giving the appearance of embarrassment and nervousness and Slughorn cleared his throat and allowed her to return to her seat.

Class was pretty uneventful.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had just escaped potions and was making her way towards her rooms, when she was stopped.

"Miss. Nilrem," a voice called.

She sighed, stopped in her steps and slowly turned around. She was surprised to see Tom Riddle gliding towards her. Not walking, bloody gliding.

"Yes?" she said quietly but politely.

"I thought it best I introduce myself, I'm Tom Riddle, Head Boy," he gave her a once over, his eyes roaming her figure from head to toe. He kept an annoyingly passive look on his face as he did so.

He gave her a dazzling smile that she was sure would have every girl dropping onto their knees before him, but it didn't affect her; the prettiest things were usually the deadliest.

"Well, thank you for the introduction, Mr. Riddle, you're the first to actually show manners, but I'm afraid I must be going, I have a familiar I must check up on, nice to meet you," she gave a polite smile and then turned and walked away.

 _'Point Hermione,'_ she thought with a snigger.

"Nilrem, I haven't heard that name before, is it _muggle_?" he said with a slight sneer she was sure she wasn't meant to actually hear, and his long legs had him catching up to her and walking beside her before she'd even managed to get a few steps away from him.

 _'So predictable.'_

"No, I'm a Half-blood, my Father a wizard and my Mother a Muggle."

"Perhaps I could show you around the castle; it must be confusing being in such a large and new environment, and I only wish to make your transition easier for you. You were homeschooled, correct?"

 _'Fishing for information, Riddle?'_

"Yes, I was homeschooled. Thank you for your kindness, but I don't need a guide, my Father attended Hogwarts and he was very specific with the details. In addition, the floor plans for Hogwarts are in Hogwarts a History and I have memorised them, besides, I'm sure you have better things to be doing than showing around the new girl, I wouldn't want to take up your time." If he was surprised he didn't show it.

"Ravenclaw," he muttered, but she heard him.

 _'Try Gryffindor.'_

"Miss. Nilrem?"

Hermione stopped and turned around at the sound of a second voice.

 _'Thank you for your timing,'_ she thought relieved.

Professor Dumbledore walked up the corridor; she felt the atmosphere become tense as Riddle and Dumbledore stared at each other, both with hatred in their eyes.

"I was wondering if I may have a word with you."

"Of course, Professor," she answered.

"I best be going anyway, Professor, Miss Nilrem," Riddle spoke, tipping his head.

"Mr. Riddle," she nodded in reply and he quickly disappeared down the corridor and around the corner, leaving her alone with Dumbledore.

"You should be careful, Miss. Nilrem, Tom Riddle is a brilliant but very dangerous you man."

"Thank you for your concern, Professor, he introduced himself to me and offered to be my guide, I turned him down," she explained.

He looked relieved but he quickly hid it from her. "Good, that's good. I just wished to discuss how your first day went; I heard there was a slight mishap in your potions class."

"I'm sorry Professor, Professor Slughorn made me introduce myself and he was prying into my personal life, asking questions that I did not think were appropriate, especially in front of a group of people I don't even know the names of. I politely declined to answer why I was a transfer student, but he was very persistent and I lost my temper."

"It is understandable, Miss. Nilrem."

"It's only been a week," she whispered, hoping to appear broken.

"I will have a word with Professor Slughorn."

"I appreciate it, Professor, thank you."

"As for dinner, I did not see you present in the great hall last night," Dumbledore spoke.

"I was feeling overwhelmed and didn't feel up to attending, dinner was something I always did with my Father."

He looked at her sadly. "Will you be attending tonight?"

"I can't say for certain, Professor, in all honesty, I don't feel hungry."

"You can't skip meals, Miss. Nilrem," he scolded softly. "Your Father wouldn't want that for you, if you don't mind me saying so, you already look under the weather."

"My Father and I went through some hard times after my Mother died, she was a muggle and killed by Grindelwald's men. They came back two years later because they wanted my Father's help, he refused and we were forced to flee or home. We ran out of food, before he was found. I escaped because of him," she said sadly. "I don't miss meals on purpose, I am just not hungry; my body isn't used to eating so much food."

He looked at her sadly. "If you do not feel up to attending dinner that is understandable, please call for Jinx, he will bring you food that will not upset your stomach."

"Thank you, Professor," she replied, fighting back a sigh of relief when he nodded and finally left her alone, allowing her to return to the privacy of her own rooms.

She had become far too good of a liar and she didn't like it, even if she only substituted a few lies for the truth and vice versa. She had been forced to flee; only it was with Harry and Ron, and she was underweight, after running out of rations during the hunt.

When she entered her room, she put her satchel on the coffee table and slumped down on the soft couch, Athena flying over to greet her soon after.

"Hey, Girl, how was your day?" She squawked in reply and Hermione chuckled. "Well it's only been a day and I've already snapped at a professor and had a run in with Riddle, I just hope he forgets about me. What was I thinking taking this mission?"

She groaned and threw her head back to rest against the back of the couch. Athena rubbed her head against Hermione's cheek and she chuckled.

"Thanks, I needed that. I've survived my first day, but I have a feeling it's only going to get more difficult."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **Q &A**

Ash – Of course she'll have her own input, she wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't share her opinions, and she's not going to be dark, at least not completely. Just enough to have Tom's attention and ears. She'll always be a Gryffindor, but she was placed in Ravenclaw as it gives her the best advantage point of allowing her to remain unnoticeable, or at least, it did...

Sab81790 – or did she? And I think you're right, it's probably killing her inside not being able to answer any questions in class in case she draws attention so herself.

As I said previously, the plot for this fic is going to move at a much faster pace for this than it does for my others.

* * *

Page count: 8

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Wednesday 4th October 1944**

It had been two weeks since Hermione had arrived at Hogwarts and thankfully she'd had no more altercations. Professor Slughorn left her alone as did the other professors and students, and she liked it that way. When she wasn't in her classes, she was doing her homework or research in her rooms or the library, which was a ten minute walk from her rooms or a five minute walk if she used the secret passageways. She had started attending dinner, but it was only a couple of nights a week but it seemed to appease Dumbledore's worries, otherwise she ate in her room and she was slowly putting weight back on.

And just as the sorting hat had predicted, the Ravenclaws hadn't noticed Hermione's distinct lack of appearances in the Ravenclaw common room or the dorm rooms. She liked the solitude; it allowed her to get on with her task and not have to deal with any teenage drama or get involved in the gossip mill of Hogwarts. The solitude allowed her to avoid everyone. Out of sight, out of my mind.

She had kept her head down and no one paid attention to her, especially not Riddle, but that was about to change when she stepped into her Arithmancy class that morning.

It was Wednesday morning, her first lesson of the day, when she was approached by her Arithmancy Professor, Professor Ellis. She was the most arrogant woman Hermione had ever met; and she would swear to every deity there was that Ellis was the actual female version of Draco Malfoy. She was a Pureblood from France, but she spent most of her time in Britain, so she only had a slight French accent.

Hermione knew instantly that Professor Ellis didn't like her and they couldn't be more different. Where her hair was long and curly and shot up in a messy bun, Professor Ellis' was blonde and tied back into a sleek and elegant bun. Where Hermione was all soft features and ivory skin, Professor Ellis was sharp angles and tanned. Where Hermione was average height but still appeared to be small, Professor Ellis was tall and thin.

"Miss. Nilrem," Professor Ellis spoke in a sharp tone as she stopped in front of her desk.

Hermione looked up from her parchment and everyone turned to watch the scene unfold. The class only consisted of twelve students, Hermione and seven other Ravenclaws and four Slytherins, two of them being Tom Riddle and Richard Lestrange.

"Yes, Professor?" she responded, she knew what was coming; she had been waiting for it since day one.

"I have over looked your uniform violations given your circumstances, but I cannot any longer. Continuous infringement will result in detention."

Hermione looked at her blankly and then she bent down and dug through her satchel, pulling out Hogwarts a History, which she held out to the pompous professor. Why couldn't the woman get married already, get pregnant and then go on maternity leave? Better, never return at all. But if she was as awful outside of classes as she was during classes, Hermione understand why she didn't have a significant other.

"Page three hundred and twenty-seven, section two, chapter three, line six," Hermione said, giving the professor a look of challenge.

The professor took the book from her and opened the book to the correct page and Hermione watched as her eyes scanned the page and a frown appeared and she looked away from the book.

"As you can see, Professor, I am not in violation of the dress code here at Hogwarts. The rules state that a blazer or robes must be worn, but not both. Skirts must cover the knees and mine does, and furthermore, stockings and knee high socks don't have to be worn, but they are advised due to the cold temperature in the castle. I, however, find them irritating and itchy."

The professor just stared at her, so Hermione reached over and took the book from her before putting it back in her satchel.

"Thank you for your concern, Professor," she said with a fake smile and a tilt of her head, an innocent look on her face, but inside she was elated at besting the harpy of a professor.

~000~000~000~

Tom Riddle was intrigued and it wasn't often that happened. The cause of this was the new girl, Hermione Nilrem.

She had first caught his attention two weeks ago in potions class. Good old Sluggie had dragged her in front of the class and made her introduce herself, making even him feel a small amount of pity. He wasn't surprised that she wouldn't even look up from the floor, but what had surprised him was that she had openly glared at Slughorn and snapped, showing a side he would never have expected from her. Given her appearance, he presumed her to be weak and insignificant, yet he had never seen anyone snap at Slughorn before and as much as he hated to admit it, it had brought him a sense of amusement, seeing Slughorn flustered and bumbling. It wasn't the least bit suspicious the way she appeared embarrassed and shy afterwards.

He had later introduced himself; he was the dutiful Head Boy after all and he had a reputation to upkeep. It came as a surprise when she hadn't been affected by his appearance, he hadn't yet met a girl that wouldn't fall at his feet, even the female professors couldn't resist his charms, yet she had, this little waif of a witch. She'd even looked bored, a look he had mastered over the years, but then again, he had mastered many things over the years, the first being his ability to mask his true emotions and thoughts from others, only showing them what he allowed them to see and what they wanted to see.

A fake smile here, a few charming words there, and everyone was eating out of the palm of his hand. It bored him, no one was able to resist him, well, no one except the old fool, Dumbledore. Witnessing her reaction to him wasn't an everyday occurrence and for him to say that it hadn't piqued his interest the tiniest bit would be lying.

He tried to discover useful information on her, even going so far as to have his Knights following her as often as possible, but his efforts had all been for nothing seeing as every single one of them had been completely useless and learned nothing of value or interest. It was fair to say he wasn't happy with their progress and they felt his unhappiness for several hours. All he knew of the newly sorted Ravenclaw was what he had learned from her himself, that she was a Half-blood and previously home schooled.

Her uniform wasn't up to the standards of the dress code either, she didn't wear the mandatory socks or blazer, her hair wasn't styled and perfect like the other girls in Hogwarts, even the first years. Tom hated glasses and she wore thick framed glasses, as if she was purposely trying to annoy him. The reason he hated glasses, they prevented him from being able to look into someone's eyes, from discovering their intentions or emotions. But he had to admit to himself that the glasses actually suited her, they made her eyes bigger, which was convenient for him. When he had introduced himself to her he had made sure to look into her eyes, he'd always been good at reading people and their eyes gave them away, the glasses magnified her chocolate brown orbs. What he saw confused him and he didn't like that feeling.

Everything about her; her height and small frame, demeanour, stance, appearance, they all gave off the impression of weak and unimportant, but her eyes told a different story. They held fire, strength, knowledge, pain and suffering. The exact opposite.

His curiosity grew when he became aware of her presence in all of his classes and he was the only student to take eight NEWTs, a feat that hadn't been done in decades, there was a reason he was the best student in Hogwarts. But Lestrange had mentioned she was in his herbology class and Rosier had told him that he had seen her in his care of magical creatures class; that would be a total of ten NEWT classes. It just wasn't possible. It wasn't possible for anyone given the constrictions of class schedules and even more so, she was a witch.

Witches weren't known for their intelligence and they weren't known to take an active interest in anything that would prepare them for a life and career outside of Hogwarts. What they were known for was finding the perfect wizard to wed, so they could be the perfect house-witch and look after the children. He got the feeling this witch, this Hermione Nilrem, was the exception and she had no interest in anything but her studies.

He had watched her from a distance and learned her routine; she stuck to it like spell-o-tape. He had observed that the only time she was off schedule was dinner, sometimes she would make an appearance and sometimes she wouldn't.

It was two weeks after her arrival at Hogwarts that he was at the point of giving up trying to figure her out, trying to understand what was going on inside her head, trying to understand her behaviour and mannerisms. She was intriguing but not enough to take his attention away from his Knights; he did have plans to make, after all, world domination didn't just happen.

But then something happened to gain his attention once again. He was in his arithmancy class and he sat back and watched the scene unfold

Professor Ellis, who he knew had taken a liking to him, as had the other professors, had called out the girl on her uniform violation. There was no mistaking that she was the one to have gained Ellis' ire, there were only three witches in the entire class and the rest were wizards. All three witches were Ravenclaws, and she was the only one to not be wearing the mandatory uniform. He watched carefully for her response, which was to pull out a book and recite a series of reference numbers, indicating the exact placement in the book she wished Ellis to see.

He and Lestrange shared a curious look.

"As you can see, Professor, I am not in violation of the dress code here at Hogwarts. The rules state that a blazer or robes must be worn, but not both. Skirts must cover the knees and mine does, and furthermore, stockings and knee high socks don't have to be worn, but they are advised due to the cold temperature in the castle. I, however, find them irritating and itchy."

He gave a low chuckle when she reached over and took the book from Professor Ellis, placing it back in her bag, before sitting up straight and clasping her hands on the table. She knew how to work the system; she knew how to work around the rules.

"Thank you for your concern, Professor," she said in a sweet tone and a tilt to her head.

Professor Ellis made her way back to the front of the class and was silent for the rest of the lesson, as the students continued to work on the arithmancy problems that were on the board.

Hermione Nilrem raised her hand not long after, claiming to have completed the task. The look on Ellis' face was priceless.

Tom's attention was once again, firmly on the girl.

~000~000~000~

 **Hogwarts - Friday 12th October 1944**

A week later Hermione was sat in her charms lesson. As usual Professor Hilton was late. She had been sat for ten minutes listening to Dolohov taunting a Hufflepuff. The girl -which Hermione hadn't bothered to learn the name of- was crying, sobbing really, with tears running down her face and snot running from her nose.

Hermione clenched her hands into tight fists; her anger was building and she could feel her magic swirling inside of her, begging to be released, begging to be put to use and teach the bully a lesson, but she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't give herself away, she had a mission to complete and remaining under the radar was paramount.

It was even more frustrating that no one was helping the poor witch. The Slytherins were laughing with the exception of Riddle who was reading his book and not paying attention to anything or anyone around him, the Gryffindors watched sadly but didn't get involved, the Ravenclaws ignored it and the other Hufflepuffs looked terrified, as if they wanted to burst into tears themselves.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore, she knew she had to keep her head down, but she'd spent most of her life defending the innocent and it was in her blood, she couldn't deny who she was. She couldn't allow this witch to feel so frightened in a place that was meant to be her safety, that was meant to be her home. A voice in the back of her mind told her that it was a bad idea and that her Father wouldn't be pleased if she drew attention to herself, but then she knew he would be.

She knew he would be proud of her for defending the innocent and defenceless witch, even if it meant making her mission more difficult in the long run. He couldn't be angry at her. He'd told her that he was proud of every life she had saved and every person she had defended and helped, why should now be any different? She stood up so fast her chair fell backwards, clattering against the stone floor and everyone turned to look at her.

Dolohov spun on his heel to see Hermione with her fists clenched by her side, her eyes narrowed, her cheeks had a pink tint to them and her hair appeared to give off sparks. His eyes widened slightly before he moulded his surprise into a smirk.

She hated him.

She wanted to punch him in the face.

She wanted to hex him.

She wanted to _kill_ him.

Her anger built.

~000~000~000~

Tom had been reading his book, drowning out the laughter and taunting of his followers when suddenly he was hit with a wave of magic he had never felt before. It was potent and strong, overwhelming even. It was thick and heady, suffocating and heavy. The magic swarming the atmosphere in furious swirls and waves, settling over him and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The magic, it was beyond something he had felt before and he felt it pushing against his chest, forcing him to take a deep breath and control his breathing lest he suffocate.

He sat up straighter and turned his head to see what everyone was looking at. Much to his surprise it was the girl, Nilrem. Her hair was sparking, little flashes of magic looking as though lightning was coursing through her. Her hands were clenched tightly by her sides, her knuckles turning white. Her cheeks were turning pink as a flush settled over her skin. Her eyes were narrowed into tight slits, aimed directly at one Antonin Dolohov, and her gaze was murderous.

He found himself admitting that there was something oddly beautiful about her, something intriguing in the way her magic reacted to the cold fury that ran through her body. And she was the one he was getting the reading off, the reading of power, pure, undiluted power.

"What are you going to do, Ravenclaw? Hit me with your book? Poke me in the eye with your quill?" Dolohov taunted. The other Slytherins sniggered, but he watched carefully, patiently waiting for her response.

His eyes were glued to her. She remained silent, appearing to be taking calming breaths, trying to possibly control her magic. He didn't blame her; if what he felt was true, if she lost control, it would likely demolish the entire classroom. He had been in a similar position during his earlier years at Hogwarts and had since learned to control it.

"What, no clever words?"

"I suggest you sit down before you get hurt," she said calmly, her voice not betraying the pulse of rage in her magic swarming the room.

It seemed he wasn't the only one to notice the sensation as several others shivered and pulled their robes tightly around themselves to protect them from the chill in the room.

"You have no idea who you are dealing with."

Dolohov seemed to register the threat and pulled his wand, training it on her.

"If you think that because I was home schooled, I don't know how to duel, then you would be severely mistaken. I have had very skilled teachers," she spoke, her voice was still calm and collected, but there was a tone of warning, something others would've missed but he heard perfectly.

Tom wasn't sure what she was capable of, but his intrigue with her had risen upon discovering the strong magical aura she carried with her. He wanted to see what she could do, even if it meant she injured his Knight. After all, that's what they were there for.

"Stupefy," Dolohov called.

Nilrem stood in place, a bored look on her face as the stunner whizzed over her shoulder, hitting the wall. The room filled with gasps and noises of surprise.

"Incendio,"

Nilrem simply stepped to the left, then moving to right to step out of the way of Dolohov's body-bind. The little show continued for several minutes, and she had yet to be hit by a single spell, hex or curse, and she had yet to draw her own wand. Tom could see the anger that radiated through Dolohov's body. He was furious that the little witch had bested him so far, and all without the need of a wand or words.

"Cr..."

Nilrem seemed to have recognised the Unforgivable just by the wand movements. _'Curious,'_ he thought. And of course he would later to punish Dolohov for attempting to do the Cruciatus in public. Thankfully the room was filled with unobservant students who hadn't noticed Dolohov's slip up.

As Tom's narrowed gaze moved from Dolohov to Nilrem, her wand was in her hand and Dolohov was flat on his back before he had chance to blink. He couldn't even remember if she had spoken. Nilrem simply walked over to Dolohov and looked down at him with a blank mask that could rival his own.

"I did warn you, I suggest you focus on duelling techniques rather than picking on defenceless students because it makes you feel better about yourself. Find another way to work out your issues that doesn't involve hurting others."

Nilrem muttered the counter curse and calmly walked back to her desk, picking up her chair from the ground and she sat down, just as Professor Hilton stepped into the room.

"Right, class, let's begin, Dear Boy, what are you doing on the ground?"

Tom kept his attention on Nilrem, who appeared to have returned to her shy state, but now he knew it was a rouse. She was hiding something.

Tom Riddle always got what he wanted and he wanted to know Hermione Nilrem's secret. And, he had to test her power, to see what she was capable of and he knew just when and how to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

You have all been amazing with your reviews, follows and favourites and I'm so glad to know that you're enjoying this fic so far. Thank you!

 **Q &A**

KlokloSerpentard - To be honest, I'm not really going to have Grindelwald featuring in this fic, at least, not yet, but I may change my mind later, so, we'll see.

* * *

Page count: 7

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Friday 12th October 1944**

Hermione was in inner turmoil; she knew she shouldn't have gotten involved but she couldn't stand by and do nothing, it went against everything she believed in and everything she stood for. She just hoped Riddle hadn't deemed her behaviour suspicious. When she peeked at him, he had been staring at his book, so hopefully he hadn't noticed.

No such luck as she entered her final lesson of the day, defence against the dark arts. Professor Welkins was a little strange but far better than Quirrell, Lockhart, Fake Moody and Umbridge combined, so she couldn't complain. She was a little upset that she didn't get the opportunity to be taught by the famous Professor Merrythought, though word around the school was that old age had taken its toll on her ability to teach and her sanity, and so she retired at the end of the prior year.

Professor Welkins announced they would be duelling and Hermione couldn't help the groan thatslipped out, thankfully no one heard. They only duelled once a week, but Hermione struggled to stop herself from going into battle mode and using dangerous spells to protect herself. Seven years was a long time to fight a war and her battle instincts would never waver, that she couldn't control.

"Pair up," Professor Welkins spoke, clapping his hands as an indication to get a move on.

Hermione sighed and banged her head against the table.

"It seems that you and I are partners by default, Miss Nilrem."

Hermione groaned and lifted her head off her desk to look up at Tom Riddle, looking down at her with a charming smile on his face.

"I suppose we are, Mr. Riddle," she replied, her eyes searching the room and seeing that everyone else had already paired up, all the girls with the girls and the boys with the boys, leaving only Hermione and Riddle. If she didn't know any better she would think he had planned it, and she did know better; he _had_ planned it.

She stood from her chair, and removed her wand from her robe pocket, gripping it tightly in her hand and feeling the safety and comfort it offered her, helping to calm her.

~000~000~000~

"Don't worry; I'll go easy on you."

"Thanks," she growled and he laughed at her. A rich sound that he had perfected over the years. The girls in the room sighed and glared at Nilrem for being the one to cause his laughter.

The desks were spelled against the walls and she took her stance, one he recognised as defensive and he felt the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk, but he pulled it back, his face remaining stoic and giving nothing away.

He was the first to make a move and he started off small, getting a feel for her duelling style. She seemed to be on the defensive, casting only Shielding Charms when needing to and dodging lighter spells.

He stepped up his game, throwing curses at her that were slightly more advanced and he noticed her stance changed. Her body wasn't rigid or tense and rooted to the spot, rather she moved gracefully, her wand arm and wrist making fluid, elegant motions as she defended herself against his attack. His eyes flickered around the room, a few pairs had ended their duel and were stood against the wall either gossiping or watching.

There was more floor space available and now they circled each other. He was impressed; no one had lasted this long in a duel against him, even when he was holding back.

He narrowed his eyes; she was good, but how good?

He once more stepped up his game, throwing spells that were considered grey magic at best, but it didn't faze her in the slightest, she didn't even bat an eyelash. Her face remained a blank mask as she just cast a stronger Protego or moved quicker, but still gracefully.

He looked around, more couples had finished, but there was still enough to keep attention away from him. It was time to really test her. He'd spent years researching and practicing dark magic and now was a good a time as any to put it to good use.

He cast a curse, one that if it hit its mark, would cause the feeling of being burned alive, taking several hours to wear off. The pale green beam left his wand and headed straight for her, he knew that a simple Shielding Charm wouldn't stop it.

He was surprised to see that her eyes widened a fraction and then they narrowed, but still not emotion showed on her face. She couldn't possibly know that curse, it had taken him two months to find it and it was in a book Lestrange had found in his family library, a rare, highly illegal book.

How could she possible know the curse?

"Plenam Clypeus," she whispered softly and there no trace of worry or fear in her voice. It was soft and calm.

He watched as a shield surrounded her entire body, looking something similar to a thick yellow bubble. His curse was absorbed by the shield effortlessly, as if he hadn't even cast it and the yellow bubble surrounding her, dropped.

 _'What the hell was that?'_

He saw a change in her fighting stance; the blank mask dropped from her face. She stood taller, her eyes filled with fire, her cheeks burned pink and her hair sparked those little lightning bolts he'd seen earlier that day. He'd finally broken down her cool mask of indifference.

There it was again, the powerful magic surrounding her was magnificent, suffocating, overwhelming and he felt his own magic vibrating in response. He felt it trying to reach out to interact with hers, to explore and meld, but he pulled it back within him, forcing it down.

In the seconds it had taken him to reign in his own magic, she had thrown a curse at him, one he had never cast himself, but the wand movements were familiar. It was a curse that would cause his internal organs to rupture. It wasn't exactly _dark_ , but it was dark enough that he knew of it, and if it were to hit its target, it would cause a great amount of pain, and if not healed quickly, death would follow.

"Shit," he cursed in a moment of disbelief and he dropped to the ground, knowing a Protego -no matter how strong- wouldn't be able to stop it.

He looked up at her and the magic around her seemed more potent, stronger if that was possible, and he didn't think it was, until now. There was an aura surrounding her, a silver and green one to be precise and the colours shone around her, melding and twining together, bathing her in an unearthly glow as it surrounded her, its movements reminding him very much of a snake slithering across the ground. It was fluid and graceful, silent and deadly. He wasn't sure what it was, he wasn't sure if the others in the room could see it either.

He stood from the floor, his tall frame straight and tense with his magic building, swirling around him and beginning to infect the atmosphere. Nilrem seemed to feel it too, as she stood even taller, her back ram rod straight and her wand gripped tightly in her hand.

"Sanguinem," he hissed, the curse headed in her direction. The curse would cause blood to expel from every orifice, not a very pleasant one to witness, and he knew that only one shield would protect against it, one he was sure she wouldn't know existed.

"Nigrum Foramen," she muttered softly.

He watched in surprise as a small vortex like form appeared in front of her. It swallowed the curse whole without effort and it disappeared from view, leaving her completely unharmed and glaring at him murderously. What was that shield? He had never seen anything like it before.

"Miss. Nilrem, Mr. Riddle!"

They both looked away from the intense gaze they held to see that Professor Dumbledore was staring at them both from the door way of the classroom. They were breathing heavily and sweat had begun to slick their foreheads at the strength it took to perform such magics. Dark magic was not known for being easy, one of the reasons being the physical strength it required to remain in control of the magics.

"That is quite enough, you have proven yourselves capable duellists," he spoke, his voice sharp and disapproving.

They both noticed the entire class had focused on them, gawking and gossiping. He looked to his followers, their eyes wide and darting between him and the witch, clearly surprised that their leader had not won his duel; rather it seemed to be a tie.

"Miss. Nilrem, please come with me," Dumbledore spoke curtly.

She frowned but didn't hesitate to retrieve her satchel, placing it on her shoulder and walking out of the door.

"Classes are almost over for the day, I suggest you set this classroom straight. Professor Welkins," Dumbledore nodded in farewell.

He gave one last look at Tom. Tom clenched his teeth and bristled when he saw the smugness held in Dumbledore's eyes, before he swept out of the room.

"Right class," Welkins cleared his throat. "Let's get this place righted," he clapped his hands and the students went about putting things back where they belonged.

"What the hell was that?" Rosier asked him, as they left the classroom and made their way down to the Slytherin common room.

"That is a good question," he replied slowly, thoughtfully. All his followers were flanking him. Lestrange, Rosier, Avery, Malfoy, Dolohov and Nott, and students stepped aside as they walked down the corridors.

"I've never even heard of those curses before," Nott commented.

"They're considered grey magic, bordering on dark, Miss. Nilrem is hiding something, she should not know those curses, most don't know of their existence. She is not what she appears. She appears weak, yet she is strong. Her demeanour is introverted, yet she stands up for herself and others. She appears calm, yet she has a short fuse. There's something about her."

His followers all shared a look.

"What?" Avery asked, almost afraid to learn the answer.

"She's powerful."

"Powerful?"

"Magnificently so, did you not feel it during the duel?"

"Well, the atmosphere did feel a little tense, but we assumed it was you," Nott commented. "The feeling was similar to your own magic."

"No, it was not."

They shared slightly worried looks. It seemed their leader had become interested in a girl, they had never seen that happen in their seven years at Hogwarts, and if she was as powerful as The Heir of Slytherin believed, he would either destroy her, or recruit her, regardless of her blood. If there was one thing Tom Riddle loved, it was power.

"Just how powerful are we talking?" Dolohov raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not yet sure, but I've never felt something so potent. It was _enlightening_."

"You're interested in her," Malfoy stated.

Malfoy was Riddle's favourite; he could get away with a lot more than the others could, he was able to make a statement the others would've been punished for saying aloud.

"She is intriguing," he mused. They knew not to respond. "I want you to bring her to me, the Room of Requirements. She'll be with Dumbledore, if not try the library, she's a Ravenclaw after all, they live there."

~000~000~000~

"Would you like to tell me what happened in class, Miss. Nilrem?" Dumbledore asked, sitting behind his desk in his office and Hermione stood in front of it.

"I lost control of myself, before I came here I duelled for my life, not for education. My instincts came into the equation when I felt threatened," she said quietly.

"I am truly sorry for all that you have suffered, Miss. Nilrem, but those spells I could not identify, unidentifiable spells are not permitted in Hogwarts."

"I am sorry, Professor, it won't happen again."

"Make sure it doesn't Miss. Nilrem, this is a warning. Next time disciplinary action will be taken."

"I understand, Professor, thank you." She turned and went to leave his office.

"Miss. Nilrem, your uniform..."

"Hogwarts a History states that a blazer or robes must be worn, but not both. A skirt must cover the knees and knee high socks or stockings are advised due to cold weather, they are not mandatory. I could give you the page reference."

He chuckled. "I'll take your word for it, Miss. Nilrem."

Hermione left the room and sighed, slouching against the wall in relief that she had managed to avoid detention. She had never had detention in her life, and she was not going to start now.

"You can't lose control, Hermione," she berated herself.

She pushed herself off the wall and made her way down to the third floor and towards her dorm room, she had a feeling that she was being followed and so not wanting to give away her rooms, she walked straight past the portrait and headed to the library.

She slipped into an alcove and then she heard voices.

"Where did she go?"

"She was just here."

Hermione looked around the corner to see a shimmer, before a Disillusionment Charm was removed.

It was Malfoy and Rosier.

She took a deep breath and gripped her wand that was in her robe pocket. She stepped out of the alcove.

"Why are you following me?"

They both jumped and turned around and she smirked at them as their eyes widened.

They looked her over, for the first time truly looking.

"I can see what he means about her demeanour verses her behaviour," Malfoy muttered to Rosier, who nodded in response.

She raised an eyebrow when they didn't answer and Rosier cleared his throat.

"Tom would like to speak with you."

"Tom?"

"Tom Riddle, Head Boy," he clarified.

"And why does he wish to see me?"

"We don't know," Malfoy shrugged. "He never said, he just wants to speak with you."

"I have a familiar I need to check up on."

"I'm sure it won't take long."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Thought not," she sighed and then turned on her heel, heading in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Rosier asked.

She heard them catch up to her, before falling into step either side of her, likely to prevent her running away, they were so close it wouldn't take much for them to grab her and pull her towards their destination if she refused to go willingly.

"Seventh floor," she answered, turning her head slightly to look at him.

"Why?"

"That's where he's waiting for me, is it not? The Room of Requirement?"

They faltered in their steps, allowing Hermione to put a few steps between them, before they quickly caught up to her.

"How do you know about that?" Rosier asked her cautiously.

"I knew it existed before I even arrived here, no more questions if you please, I want to get this over with."

It didn't take long for them to reach the seventh floor and a large arched door was waiting for her, as well as Dolohov, Avery, Lestrange and Nott. When they became aware of her arrival, their mouths pulled into smirks in unison, which she admitted was a little creepy.

"Good luck, Sweetheart," Dolohov grinned cruelly, tipping his head to look down at her.

"You're just mad I knocked you on your arse," she said lightly. He glared in response and made to pull his wand.

"Tom does not want her harmed," Nott said, stopping Dolohov from doing so.

"He won't protect you forever," Dolohov sneered at her.

"I don't need his protection," she snorted.

"You have no idea what he's capable of," Avery warned, a fearful look flashing in his eyes.

"Well you have no idea what I'm capable of either. He didn't win our duel, did he? Which I'm certain is something you've never seen happen before," she responded, before placing her hand on the door and she pushed it open, taking a step inside.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

Are we ready for Hermione and Tom's first true interaction?

Also, I mentioned before in an answer to a review that Merlin may not have been completely honest about his plan. Are we ready to see what his true intentions are?

 **Q &A**

KlokloSerpentard – I use google translator, the translation may not be completely accurate but it allows me enough understanding to be able to read your reviews and reply to you.

Sab81790 - I'm aiming to keep Dumbledore neutral, but that's not saying for definite that I won't having him tipping the scales between alley and enemy in the future. Some days he may be considered an ally, another he may be considered an enemy. I'm trying to keep a balance where he isn't too _good_ or too _bad_.

* * *

Page count: 10

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Friday 12th October 1944**

Hermione closed the door behind her and steeled herself. She could feel the comfort of her wand that was now safely tucked into her hair and she strengthened her occlumency shields. She knew that in this time line he was learning legilimency, but she didn't know how far he had progressed, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

She turned around and almost snorted at what she saw. The room was large with stone walls and flooring and several stone columns throughout the room. There was a large rectangular table with dark wingback chairs surrounding it. Three on each side of the table and a larger and more regal looking chair at the head of the table.

Further behind the table were five stone steps, leading to a large podium where a throne sat. It was made of silver metal, with green cushions and two large snakes moulded out of silver, entwining above the back of the throne, and two smaller versions mounted on the arm rests.

 _'Loves himself a little,'_ she thought with a snort.

"Mr. Riddle," she spoke calmly, when he stepped out from behind a column, likely having been observing her from the moment she stepped into the room. "And may I ask why my presence was required so quickly that you had to send two wizards to collect me? The gentlemanly thing to do would be to collect me yourself."

He smirked at her.

"You sound disappointed."

She snorted, very un-lady like and he was annoyed when he found that the behaviour amused him.

"I am merely disgruntled that I was interrupted from entering the library."

"Ravenclaws," he muttered.

"That yours?" She nodded to the throne behind him. "A bit pompous, don't you think?"

"Slytherin," he shrugged in response, looking the perfect picture of ease, but she knew better.

"Believe me, I am aware of who you are," she responded dryly.

He raised an eyebrow, not understanding just how true her words were. "And just who is that?"

"From what I've heard, Head Boy, top student in his year, Slytherin Sex God, resident Hogwarts hottie, every girl swoons over you. You're charming, intelligent, helpful, respectful."

"You've been asking about me?" He spoke, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

She laughed at him, she actually laughed at him; he felt his anger make an appearance.

"Merlin, no! I'm not a sociable person, maybe it's because I'm an only child and home schooled, I've never had to socialise and to be honest, I can't be bothered dealing with the ineptness of most people, particularly those that partake in ideal chatter and gossip," her answer surprised him. "But mostly I prefer to observe, I like to learn about a person without having to interact with them. I'm quiet, and therefore no one takes notice of me, the things I've heard about certain people is astounding, they don't even know I'm there."

"For example?"

"For example, did you know that Grant Mully, Ravenclaw, is cheating on his girlfriend, with not just one, but three other witches? Or that Sarah Longston, Ravenclaw, is failing both charms and transfiguration?"

"Only Ravenclaws?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Nope," she said with a pop of the 'p'. "Kyle Livingston of Hufflepuff is struggling with his identity. He's no longer attracted to his girlfriend, he's got his eye on Gary Shaw of Gryffindor. Laura Knapper of Gryffindor cheated to get herself on the Quidditch team, she slipped a potion into her competitor's pumpkin juice before tryouts. Bruce Juggs of Slytherin is worried that his Father will leave his inheritance to his idiot cousin." He watched her with intrigue. "What's the matter, Mr. Riddle? Eagle got your tongue?" Her mouth twitched.

He cleared his throat. "You are not who you appear to be."

"There's no point in acting the way I do in class, you can obviously see through my act. So you've figured it then? I'm not actually shy, I'm not reserved, I've got a short fuse and I hate bullies, they push my buttons more than anything."

"So I've seen," he commented lightly, his thoughts relaying what he'd seen and felt that morning in potions class. "You intrigue me," he admitted slowly with a frown. "You're hiding something. You're powerful, very powerful. I can feel it, your magic is surrounding you, infecting the atmosphere and filling the air. It's more potent, I assume, when you're angry, but its presence is still there, even now I can feel it."

"You're powerful too," she nodded at him. "I felt it filling the room; I've only felt an aura that strong twice before, impressive." He seemed to stand taller. She snorted. "So arrogant."

"I have reason to be."

She laughed loudly. "You're handsome, I'll give you that."

"You think I'm handsome?" He smirked.

"I'm not blind, I do, however, take points off for you being so narcissistic. You're handsome and you know it, that's not an attractive quality to have."

"The entire female population of Hogwarts doesn't seem to mind."

"I'm not your typical witch; I don't let something as trivial as appearance affect me."

A challenging look crossed his eyes.

He walked closer to her and stopped in front of her, barely inches from touching her. She had to crane her neck upwards to remain in eye contact with him; he was far taller than her five-foot-six frame, against his six-foot-one figure.

"You're telling me that I don't affect you? That you're not attracted to me?" He whispered, his voice taking a husky tone, that if she were a less self-respecting witch who didn't know of Tom Riddle's true self, she would've happily snogged him senseless.

"You don't affect me, I'm not attracted to you," she dead panned.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

He looked into her eyes and was surprised to see that she was telling the truth. He was always able to tell a lie from the truth, even as a young child and he knew she was being completely truthful, he felt his forehead crinkle into a frown.

He had never encountered someone that didn't care for his looks, that didn't fall for his charms. It was unsettling. His eyes narrowed slightly, he cast a silent Legilimens and entered her mind, he instantly hit against a shield, a strong one, and he withdrew immediately not wanting her to know what he'd done. He was both surprised and suspicious. Why would she know occlumency? Why would she have her shields up, even now? She couldn't possibly have known about his ability of Legilimency, only a select few did, they just weren't aware of just how good he was at it. He wasn't far off from being a master.

"Surprisingly, not everyone bows down to you. Now, please step back, you're too tall and my neck is killing me," she scowled. He surprisingly listened to her and stepped back, but still remained close enough to touch her if he so wished.

"Those curses, where did you learn them?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the door, getting comfortable. He had never seen a witch do something so un-lady like.

"Of course, you don't have to tell me, I'm sure Headmaster Dippet would love to know that a student was practicing magic such as that on Hogwarts grounds."

Hermione laughed. "Such a dutiful Head Boy," she tutted. "It's a shame it's bullshit. You would never tell Dippet. First of all, how did you know what those curses were? Your tone of voice showed familiarity, whether you just know of them or you've cast them yourself, it doesn't matter. In which case, where did you learn them, Mr. Riddle? They're unknown to most. Second of all, if you tell Dippet, I would likely be expelled and then you would never know where I learned to cast them. And finally, don't think I don't know of the curses you cast yourself. One of those was a dark curse and would've easily killed me if I hadn't known how to cast the shield to defend myself against it."

She was quick; he would give her that, cunning too, which surprised him. It annoyed him that she was able to do that. That she was able to catch him off guard. And if wasn't the first time. She'd been surprising him since the moment he became aware of her arrival at Hogwarts.

"Those Shielding Charms, I have never come across them in any books, even the rarest of ones."

"They're long forgotten, haven't been used for over six centuries."

"Then how do you know of them?"

He was getting agitated and she must have felt it too because she no longer lounged against the door, instead she stood straight with her eyes narrowing on him.

His magic was lightly swarming around them; her magic seemed to respond to his. He felt it lick against his skin; it tingled pleasantly and sent shivers down his spine. His eyes were focused on nothing but her.

"How do I know of them? I'm not going to tell you, it's more fun to watch you squirm. You're always so calm and collected, not a hair out of place, I like being the one that frustrates you," she smirked. "It's amusing and I don't get a lot of entertainment here. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Riddle, I have studying to do and a familiar to get back to. By the way, those _friends_ of yours are not very clever. I knew they were following me from the moment I stepped out of Dumbledore's Office, not very Slytherin of them, wouldn't you agree?"

She pulled the door open and stepped through it; the Slytherins in the hallway stopped talking and observed her carefully. She didn't look any different, in fact, she looked amused, pleased even and certainly not as if she had faced their feared leader's wand.

"Slytherins," she greeted with a tip of her head and smile pulling at her mouth, before she waltzed past them and down the corridor, feeling their eyes on her retreating back.

"I'm not letting this go," Tom's voice spoke, carrying down the corridor and to her ears.

She turned around and walked backwards, laughing lightly at the frustrated look in his eyes, but it was hidden well.

"Of course not, Mr. Riddle, like I said, frustrating you is my only entertainment around here, I can't study twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, that's just sad, even for a Ravenclaw. Until our next meeting," she gave a mocking curtsey and then turned and walked down the corridor, slipping out of sight when she rounded the corner.

The Slytherins stared in disbelief at what they'd just witnessed, before cautiously turning their eyes to their Lord. They were surprised to see his reaction. He wasn't furious like they had assumed he would be, no, it was something much more disturbing. Something much more frightening. He still had an irritated look on his face, but the corners of his mouth were twitching, as if he was trying to suppress a smile.

His followers shared a worried look, but they too tried to mask their smirks.

It seemed Miss. Nilrem had caught the attention of Tom Riddle, a feat never before done by another witch. They knew he had bedded his fair share of witches -he was still a teenage boy after all- but he never showed interest in them, not like he had with Miss. Nilrem. And that thought alone was truly terrifying.

She had no idea what she was in for. When Tom Riddle turned the charm on, no witch was safe. And the group of Slytherins had a feeling they would be seeing a lot more of Hermione Nilrem.

"She admitted that her act around school is exactly that, an act. She doesn't act as other witches do. She has manners, but only deems to use them in public. She's intelligent and powerful, _very_ powerful; be mindful not to ridicule another student in front of her, it seems she dislikes bullies. I wouldn't want you to get hurt, it wouldn't be good publicity. She is very observant, you'll have to watch out for her, watch what you say or do in public at all times," he warned them.

"What are you going to do, My Lord?" Malfoy asked.

He smirked. "Turn on the charm, of course. She'll be spilling her secrets before she knows it. And what secrets they will be."

~000~000~000~

Hermione had made sure that she hadn't been followed and then spoke the password to her rooms. The little girl waved at her, before running off into the distance and the portrait swung open, allowing her access to her rooms. Athena greeted her and then Hermione started pacing, back and forth.

She had messed up!

She was supposed to stay off the radar, she had failed. Tom Riddle had noticed her, seemed to have taken an interest in her, made it his personal mission to discover her secrets.

Fantastic!

She had screwed up, she had failed her mission. The future would never be saved.

"Father," she called.

"Yes, My Child," he spoke.

Hermione turned around to see her Father standing by the fireplace.

"I've failed," she said, a panicked held on her face.

"How so?" He asked curiously.

"I've been detected, Riddle's noticed me; he seems to have noticed the differences in my fake demeanour to my real self. We had to duel and he was testing me, his curses got stronger and darker and I had to defend myself. I used my shields, and in return I sent back some questionable curses. I know I shouldn't have but my mind just told me that I had to fight and win."

"That is not your fault, your mind is conditioned for survival after years of battle," he said softly.

"He knows I'm powerful, he said he could feel my magic during our duel. I intrigue him and he's not going to stop until he knows me and my secrets, I can no longer do this mission, I have been compromised."

He shook his head. "No, you have not. He does not know of your true identity, in fact, this may be helpful to us, easier."

She stopped pacing and looked at him confused. "How so?"

"There have been a change of plans, you will no longer be required to stay under the radar, instead you will join him."

She stared at him. "Are you insane? I can't join him, he's a psychopath."

"Maybe so, you were sent back to change the future without killing Tom Riddle, you say that he is intrigued by you, yes?" She nodded slowly. "If you join him, you may be able to influence his decisions. Plant a seed of doubt and show him a different way of life, one that doesn't involve killing and harming others, that doesn't involve prejudiced and discriminatory thoughts and feelings."

"It's impossible; he believes that it's what Slytherin wants."

"Then you will show him that it's not."

"And how am I supposed to do that without revealing who I am?"

"I have no idea," he chuckled when she huffed. "You will no longer focus your attention on Horcruxes; we'll put that on hold for now, but don't allow him to create any more. Your main focus is to infiltrate and..."

"Manipulate?" She snorted. He chuckled at her.

"Yes, this way is simpler, easier too, you'll be safer. If he values you, he will protect you."

"I don't need his protection," she huffed indignantly.

He smiled. "No, you don't. You are a strong one. Be careful how you go about this."

"I'm not changing who I am; I won't just bow down to him and give him control over me. I'm going to make him do all the work, if he's intrigued and he wants to know more, then he'll have to work for it. If he wants information and for me to join his stupid cult, then he'll have to beg," she spoke. "Is it weird that I'm finding pleasure in this new mission?"

He laughed lightly and shook his head. "No, it's not. After what you have seen and experienced at the hands of Tom Riddle, it's only normal that you feel this way."

"Thank you, Father," she said softly.

He nodded and smiled and then disappeared from view.

~000~000~000~

"If she finds out that you're keeping information from her, she won't be happy."

"Salazar," he greeted with a smile. "And what information would that be?"

Salazar smirked. "There is only one way to destroy a Horcrux without killing the host, which you very well know. Which means your intention was to never have Hermione stay undetected. Your original plan was to have her join my many greats of a Grandson. You wanted him to notice her, to be intrigued by her," he stated confidently with a smug look on his face. "What do you know that you aren't sharing?"

Merlin sighed. "Their paths have always been destined to cross. They are both destined for great things, and they will require each other to achieve them."

Salazar raised a questioning eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see soon enough, if all goes to plan."

"That daughter of yours is rather creative; I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of her wand."

Merlin smiled proudly. "I am glad I'm dead," he nodded. "It means she can't cause any serious damage."

"It will still hurt," he commented.

"Definitely," Merlin agreed and Salazar gave a boisterous laugh.

"I offer you my condolences in advance for any body part you may lose."

~000~000~000~

 **Hogwarts - Monday 15th October 1944**

Hermione quietly walked down the corridors of Hogwarts, heading to her first lesson of the day, potions.

She had been contemplating the new plan all weekend, barely leaving her rooms and staying out of sight. Her rouse was over, had been shattered, but she was proud that she had been able to keep it up for nearly a month, to be honest, she didn't think she would've last that long.

She had spent the weekend mentally preparing herself to willingly join Tom Riddle and his merry band of future killers. She had to stay detached, she had to remember the past –well, future-, but also forget it. She had to be darker; she had to show no fear, no mercy. She had to prove that she was dangerous and that you would be a fool to underestimate her. She had to prove to Riddle that he needed her. No more Gryffindor Princess, no, it was time for her to be more Slytherin. The Slytherin Princess was needed.

Riddle was nowhere near as dangerous in this time, but he was still powerful, but so was she. He was intelligent and good at masking his true feelings, he was a charmer; he had the entire school population in his robe pocket.

She would have to always be one step ahead, she couldn't falter in her occlumency shields, but if she ever did she had a backup plan, something that had taken a long time for her to learn.

She sighed when she reached her destination in the dungeons. Her rouse may have been up with Riddle, but it wasn't with the rest of the school and professors and she was pleased with that. She made sure to hunch over on herself slightly and she walked into the room, clutching her books to her chest, her glasses firmly in place and her hair piled messily onto the top of her head with some curls escaping.

She slowly made her way to her seat but stopped when she saw someone in it. Dolohov. He noticed her and smirked, subtly motioning for her to turn around. She did, there was only one seat available and it was next to Tom Riddle, who was looking at her innocently.

She ground her teeth together and gripped her books tighter, but slowly moved over to him, pulling out the stool and sitting down and placing her books on the work table.

"Miss. Nilrem," he greeted politely.

"Mr. Riddle," she struggled to contain the growl and he chuckled at her.

"Whatever is the matter, Miss. Nilrem?" He asked innocently.

She took a calming breath. "You see, there's an overbearing, impossible and quite annoying wizard in my life." She turned to look at him, much calmer, though if you looked into her eyes, the anger seen there spoke volumes.

"Really?" He asked with a terrifyingly accurate tone of worry, and his face supported it too. Oh, he was good.

"Hmm, you see, he just won't leave me alone. I've considered hexing him, but the pain in the arse just threatened to tell a Professor, although, I doubt he actually would."

"Maybe said wizard finds you interesting," he supplied.

"Maybe said wizard should grab a broom, fly over Hogwarts' grounds and jump into The Black Lake to be eaten by The Giant Squid," she scowled, clearly over their game.

He laughed at her and she turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing.

"I have a proposition for you," he said, leaning closer to her.

"Well, you can take that proposition and shove it right where the sun doesn't shine."

"That's not very kind, Miss. Nilrem, and you haven't yet heard my proposition," he whispered.

"Don't care."

"I think you'll like it," he practically purred. He reached up with his hand and took a loose curl of hers in his hand, tugging on it gently. "You're a mystery, I can't figure you out. You have secrets and I want to know them and I always get what I want. So I thought I'd make this pleasant for you." He moved closer to her, his mouth almost touching her ear and he whispered. "If you tell me what you're hiding, you can have me."

Despite herself, she shivered and she silently berated herself.

"Resorting to pimping yourself out, Mr. Riddle? You must be desperate, but still, I must inform you that I decline your offer."

He chuckled at her. "I know you want me, everyone does," he said huskily, with an arrogant look on his face.

She pulled away from him and looked him up and down and he smirked at her appraisal of him.

"Sorry, not interested." His smirk dropped and he stared at her in disbelief, she was now the one smirking. "You're too pale, your hair is too tidy, that blazer under your robes looks ridiculous; it makes you look frumpy and you're not nearly as charming and good looking as you think you are. So, yes, I will be declining your invitation of a night of pure displeasure," she turned and faced the chalkboard.

 _'Point, Hermione.'_

He seemed to break out of his stupor and his magic swirled around her lightly, but she ignored it, not giving him the satisfaction of responding to his threat. He leaned forward and once more took a curl in his hand and tugged on it, still gently, but he was obviously angry. He moved his lips next to her ear.

"Miss. Nilrem, you have severely underestimated me, I could cause you so much pain," he cooed in her ear.

She snorted. "And you, Mr. Riddle, have severely underestimated me. I know curses that you don't, that you want to know. If you think I would let myself be hurt by you or your merry little henchman, then you are severely mistaken. And there is one thing you are forgetting."

"What would that be?"

"I'm a Half-blood."

"Your point being?"

"I have magical tendencies, such as to hex your face onto your arse. But I also have muggle tendencies, my favourite at the minute is wanting to kick you in a place that will be very painful, render you speechless it will, likely have you on the floor too."

He quickly pulled away from her with narrowed eyes and he saw that she was telling the truth, the smug look on her face was unmistakable.

He leaned forward again.

"Well, Miss. Nilrem, it seems battle lines have been drawn. But I always get what I want."

"Not from me," she huffed.

He chuckled. "I will, I promise you that before you know it, I'll know all your secrets."

He quickly kissed her cheek and pulled away. She had a disgusted look on her face and she promptly started wiping at her cheek with her robe sleeve.

 _'How dare she?'_

He saw several of his followers shaking with laughter. They would have to be punished, yes, he would be sure to let off a little steam later that evening.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

* * *

Page count: 7

* * *

 **Hogwarts – Monday 22nd October, 1944**

It had only been a week since Tom Riddle had officially expressed his interest in discovering the mystery that surrounded Hermione, and it had been a _very_ long week at that.

It had taken her all but a couple of hours for her to get used to her being followed around, but this time, she was being followed without her stalkers using magic to disguise themselves and she knew why, too. Since she'd told Riddle that she'd known about his _friends_ following her, he saw no point in denying it and rather he made sure that she _could_ see it.

He wanted her to know she was being watched, hoping that the constant watchful eyes that were on her would tear her down until she couldn't take it anymore and she begged him to stop and in return she'd tell him what he wanted to know. And she wasn't just being followed to her classes, no, they followed her everywhere; to the bathroom, to the library, to professors 'offices when handing in assignments, they even followed her when she decided to get some fresh air and take a little stroll over the grounds of the castle. It had been difficult to return to her own dorm room, but with her knowing the castle better than anyone, she'd been able to use the secret passageways to lose her stalkers and get to safety.

And she admitted that whilst it was somewhat of an annoyance to have someone following her everywhere she went, knowing they were scrutinizing her movements, listening to anything she said in hopes it would shed some light on the mystery surrounding her, mostly she found it amusing. She was amused to know that Tom Riddle had resorted to ordering his band of merry henchmen to follow her around to learn her secrets, as his first method, using his looks and charms to get what he wanted hadn't worked. And that's what amused her the most, she knew she had thrown his a curve ball the moment she informed him of her disinterest in sleeping with him. She was certain that no one had ever turned him down, she was the first, and it had been so surprising to him that hadn't known how to react at first.

She knew what he was doing, not only was he having her followed but he'd spent the last week _accidentally_ bumping into her in the corridors, giving her charming smiles and brushing his side against innocently when they crossed paths in the corridors, hoping his touch would affect her the same way it did the other witches. He just always seemed to be around the corner, when a witch would bump into her, glaring at her for the obvious interest Riddle seemed to have taken in her, her bag would fall to the ground and the contents would spill out. Riddle would suddenly show up, crouching down beside her to help her collect her belongings, being the ever helpful and gentlemanly head boy. This only infuriated the witches more, especially since he'd taken to sitting next to her in their shared classes, wanting her to be close by so he could keep an eye on her. Hermione knew to be on her guard, she knew she'd have another Viktor Krum situation on her hands soon enough and she'd find herself on the receiving end of hexes and hate mail.

At the moment, Riddle was only intrigued by her as he knew she was keeping secrets, but she needed it to be more than that. She needed to be invaluable to him; she needed to be someone he absolutely needed on his side, someone he would protect. She could take care of herself, but her father had been right, having the protection and support of Tom Riddle would be useful, especially given the times they were in when the majority of witches were only interested in finding the perfect wizard to wed and being the perfect house-witch. No one would take her seriously unless she had him on her side.

She needed to be indispensable, a one of a kind, and that's what she was. She was the heir and daughter to the great and powerful Merlin, there was no one else like her, but she couldn't very well tell Riddle that, could she? So she had spent the last week putting together a plan, and it was finally time to put it into action. It was time to share one of her 'secrets' with Tom Riddle, but she planned on doing it so it looked accidental, like she hadn't meant for him to see it.

There was only six days until the Halloween Ball and the castle had been abuzz with gossiping and simpering witches, discussing what they planned on wearing and who they hoped would escort them to the ball. In this time period, Hermione knew that if she didn't show to the ball with an escort rumours would spread, but she didn't care what others thought of her, as it was, she'd only planned on making an appearance and then sneaking out when everyone was too distracted to notice her disappearance.

Lessons had just ended for the day and as Hermione walked from her classroom, she knew she was being followed, only this time it was by Riddle himself. It was easy for him to fall into step beside her and she ignored his presence, knowing it would annoy him. She may have to infiltrate his little organisation, but that didn't mean she couldn't have any fun in doing so, besides, the more she disliked him, the more he would go out of his way to make her like him.

"You seem to be in a rush, Miss. Nilrem," he spoke after several minutes of walking the corridors in silence.

"No, I just want to get away from you as soon as possible," she replied lightly.

She turned her head, getting caught in his ice-blue gaze, she wasn't sure if he was amused or angered by her response, it was probably a bit of both.

"I am sure you're aware of the Halloween Ball that is occurring on Saturday," he spoke, ignoring her last response.

 _'Where is he going with this?'_ She thought.

"Of course, I was there for the announcement after all, and my ears are bleeding from all the sickening conversations I've heard of witches simpering over wizards and crying over the colour of their gowns not being the right shade."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do not care for such things?" He asked.

"Not really, no," she answered. "Whilst I can appreciate the beauty of the decorations and I can understand the reasons behind the celebration, I find myself being bored of numerous talks of who's escorting who and who's wearing what, when this ball is only going to last a few hours. I have much more valuable things to do with my time."

"So you will not be attending the ball?"

"No, I will, if only to keep up appearances, I may even enjoy a dance or two, but I imagine I will be bored within an hour and be wishing for nothing but an escape. I'm to assume you will be attending?"

"Naturally," he replied, "It's my duty as head boy to ensure the smooth running of the ball and to officially start the ball with the first dance with the head girl," he responded, a slight twitch in his lip leading her to believe he didn't think much of Hillary Denvors, a Half-blood Hufflepuff.

"Sounds awful, you poor dear, what you must do for this school," she said sarcastically.

He turned his head to look at her, his ice-blue eyes locking on her and his mouth twitched, it was either annoyance or amusement; he wasn't exactly sure which. He often felt both when in her presence.

"Exactly, I imagine it being a dull evening,"

"Now that I can agree with," she nodded.

"Out of curiosity, do you have an escort?"

She blinked in surprise at his question, looking to him and seeing that he genuinely seemed to be curious, but she didn't like the spark he held in his eyes. She was sure it can't have been good for her.

"Yes,"

"You do?" He spoke, his steps momentarily halting, but it was barely noticeable.

"Unfortunately, I do. You see, thanks to you, others are now starting to take notice of me, and I much preferred it when they didn't know I existed. I was asked to the ball last weekend, and I felt I couldn't turn him down, seeing that he looked so hopeful that I would agree."

His brow creased slightly in annoyance. "And who is to be your escort?"

"That's none of your business," she replied.

"Don't you wish to know who I'll be escorting?" He asked.

"You know, I really don't," she answered, feeling amused at the way his mouth twitched and his nose seemed to flare.

She hadn't planned on putting her plan into action so soon, but now was the perfect time. With her being from the future and after all the research she'd done into Tom Riddle and his past, especially at Hogwarts, she'd stumbled upon certain pieces of information that had been irrelevant before but were now very useful. Now she knew when certain events were going to happen and she was going to use them to her advantage. She was going to use them to convince Tom Riddle that she was a legitimate Seer.

Who better than to have on your side than someone who could see future outcomes? Especially when there were as little as ten legitimate Seers currently left in the world. If she could convince him she was a Seer, then hopefully she'd be able to convince him that she'd seen his future and she could prevent the war from ever happening. As it was, Seers were known for being odd, so it would certainly explain many things about her.

As they were walking down the corridors, she turned left and he followed for no other reason than to actually follow her. She knew that on that particular corridor and in a few minutes time, Peeves was going to make an appearance and he was going to terrorise a group of second year students with enough stink pellets to stink out half the castle.

Voices up ahead filled her ears.

"No," Hermione whispered, coming to a sudden stop.

Riddle stopped beside her and looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, before she drew her wand, flung a Shielding Charm in the direction of the young students and she grabbed Riddle by the arm and dragged him into the alcove behind them.

It was clear he was surprised with her sudden actions and he didn't look too pleased with being manhandled either, but he didn't get chance to voice his annoyance as Hermione flung a Shielding Charm over the two of them, just as a bang was heard and the corridor suddenly filled with green smoke, making it difficult to see anything.

Hermione waited only but a minute before she cast a strong Ventilation Charm to help with the ridding of the smoke and smell, and she dropped the shield, stepping out of the alcove and making her way over to the five young students, all of them looking surprised by what had happened, but confused as to how they'd been protected from the stink pellets.

"Are you any of you injured?" Hermione asked, giving her wand a flick and the bubble-like shield fell from around them. The five students covered their noses and gave a cough as the last remnants of the horrendous smell was removed from the corridor.

"We're fine," a Hufflepuff answered, giving her a shy smile.

"Alright then, off you go, you shouldn't linger in the corridors too long, it just gives Peeves an opportunity to target you," she said, making a shooing motion with her hands and they soon disappeared down the corridor, so Hermione turned and made to leave, but Tom Riddle stepped in front of her, looking down at her expectantly, curiously.

"Yes?"

"How did you know that was going to happen?" He asked her.

She smiled innocently; he didn't believe it for a second and she knew it. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she responded, readjusting her bag on her shoulder and stepping around him to continue walking down the corridor.

"You're lying, I know you are. You knew that was going to happen, how?"

She looked at him over her shoulder and shrugged. "I just had a feeling," she responded, walking off and disappearing from view.

A few more instances like that and she knew he'd soon figure it out and she'd be one step closer to the saving the future.

~000~000~000~

 **Wednesday 24th October, 1944**

Hermione was sat at her desk in her defence against the dark arts classroom, and she was more than aware of Tom Riddle being sat at the desk to the right of her, not listening to Professor Welkins give his recap lecture on pixies, but rather he was watching her, whilst she was staring at the cage of pixies sat on the large desk at the front of the room. She knew that today, those pixies would get loose and cause a great amount of chaos in the classroom, much like they had in her second year with Lockhart.

She didn't take her eyes off the cage but she caught from the corner of her Riddle move his eyes to the cage and then back to her, looking at her suspiciously, curiously. She knew he was already starting to put the pieces together, especially after she'd prevented a cauldron from exploding in potions class that morning, and the previous day she'd stopped a first year from falling off a moving staircase, and she'd been in the vicinity of Rosier and Malfoy when she'd done so.

She waited, she knew it wasn't much longer; she could see the cage rattling and shaking as the pixies inside did everything they could to break free. She was watching the latch on the cage door, it was moving closer and closer to opening and barely minutes later, the cage door opened but she'd already thrown a Locking Charm at it, the door closing before a single pixie was able to escape. She'd been so quiet and quick that no one had noticed, no one, except Tom Riddle.

She put her wand away and made sure to do a sweep of the room, putting a nervous look on her face as her eyes swept each student in turn before they landed on Tom Riddle. He raised an eyebrow and his head tilted to the side slightly, his mouth pulling into a half smirk. She was sure he was putting together the pieces she was leaving him.

~000~000~000~

 **Friday 27th October, 1944**

"I believe you're heading in the wrong direction."

Hermione stopped in her steps and turned to look over her shoulder, seeing none other than Tom Riddle, but she'd known it was him before he'd even spoke.

"Am I?"

"The library's on the third floor," he replied, continuing in his steps until he came to a stop beside her.

"I'm aware of the location of the library," she spoke, returning to making her way towards her destination, which happened to be the girl's bathroom on the second floor. As soon as he realised where they were, she noticed the change in his magic, in his body language.

"The bathroom hasn't been used in over a year," he spoke.

"I don't wish to use the bathroom."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I don't know," she lied, pushing the door open and stepping inside, noting the way he followed after her, his eyes watching her carefully.

She walked around the sinks in the centre of the room, her eyes darting about as if she were taking in the sight for the first time. She came to a stop and gently ran her fingers over one of the sinks, a slight frown pulling at her face before she lifted her hand and pressed it against the mirror.

Feeling him step up behind her, slowly she lifted her eyes from staring at the columns and immediately her gaze locked with his, seeing that he was stood so close to her, his chest was almost pressed against her back.

"You know, don't you?" He said quietly. She blinked slowly. "There's no point in lying to me, I know you know."

"Something happened here," she all but whispered. "There's a strange aura coming from this room, but more importantly, from here."

She moved away from him until she came to a stop at the sink that had the snakes carved above it and she ran her finger over the stone carving softly, before she blinked, shook her head and stepped back.

"Anyway, I suppose I better get to my dorm, I have a familiar to see to," she said.

She turned and made for the exit, but before she reached the door his hand wrapped around her wrist and he tugged her backwards, stepping into her until her back hit his chest and he lowered his mouth to speak into her ear.

"I know your secret," he muttered softly.

"I don't have any secrets," she lied unconvincingly, and she'd done so on purpose. Today was the day Tom Riddle discovered he needed her.

"Miss. Nilrem, you're a terrible liar," he tutted, his other hand coming up to gently tug at a loose curl. "I am a little annoyed that it has taken me so long to discover it, but given the nature of it, I feel it is within my capabilities to forgive you. After all, a secret such as yours is priceless."

"I don't know what you mean," she responded.

He gave a rich, deep chuckle and it sent shivers down her spine, his breath tickling and warming her skin as he spoke.

"Your secret is safe with me, Seer."

She pulled back from him and spun around to face him, making her eyes as wide and innocent as possible.

"I'm not a Seer," she denied. "They're incredibly rare and one hasn't been seen in Britain in over three decades."

His head tilted to the side and his mouth pulled into a half smirk, his eyes alight with victory and knowledge.

"The Prophetic Seers are quite common, but your kind, the kind that can allow you to see future outcomes and memories of the past are almost unheard of. I admit, you were good at hiding it, but I'm a lot more observant than the other students, as you well know. I see things others don't and now I see you for who you truly are."

"And that is?" She asked, taking a step back and moving closer to the door.

His mouth pulled into a smirk. "Valuable, very valuable indeed."

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever you want from me, I can't help you and I won't." She spoke, before she turned and left out the bathroom.

"I always get what I want, Miss. Nilrem," his voice carried down the corridor after her.

"Not from me," she responded.

"We'll see," he replied and she could hear the smirk in his voice.

Hermione rounded the corner and breathed a sigh of relief, a feeling of triumph filling her and her mouth pulling into a smile. She'd done it, she'd shown Tom Riddle how powerful and valuable she was and she knew he'd stop at nothing to get her. Soon, she would infiltrate his organisation and manipulate him into being a better person. She only hoped the rest of her plan would go as well as the previous part had.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

I didn't mean for this chapter to be so long, but as I did with 'TDTSATWOOT,' I've been gone so long so I thought, don't split the chapter in two, just give it to them as it is and be kind, so here we go. 10,000 + words and 24 pages, does this make up for being gone for so long? It took me bloody ages to write.

So, I love writing Hermione getting one over on Tom Riddle, but I thought, Hermione can't always be on top form, let's make it a little more even. It's Tom's turn to shine.

 **Q &A**

Renowned-warrior – I promise, this is _not_ abandoned and neither is 'My Father's Daughter.' I've been doing this a good few years now and have yet to abandon a fic. The update schedule depends on the muse and it cooperates more with one than it does others. I would never forgive myself for putting out a piece of work only for people to get invested in it and then for me to abandon it, leaving them without answers. I plan to have an update for 'MFD' soon, as for this, I do already have 5-6 chapters prewritten (depending on where I spilt them, I haven't yet decided) but they're to be used somewhere around the middle of the arc, so once we hit that, I've something to tie me over. I've recently gone over a year without updating one of my fics but I've since returned to it and it shall be completed soon with only 4-5 chapters left to go. I always finish my works, I promise. Sometimes it just takes a little time, especially given I have so many posted WIPs and non-posted, secret surprise WIPs.

Hrymeigh – Glad to bring you along on the journey. Buckle up.

Jinx delrio – Welcome, I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I'll be doing this on my death bed, lol.

Najada – Exactly!

LilyRose9 – So glad you've enjoyed it so far. This isn't quite a redemption arc but neither is it a Hermione turns to the dark side, it's a little of both. They both change each other in different ways. I plan on Tom still having a darkness to him, just more controlled.

McSarah7 - I do love to surprise you and keep you on your toes.

Sab81790 - So glad you enjoyed it!

Deathleena – Welcome! And don't worry, for as long as I'm able to continue writing, there will always be humour, trust me when I say, Hermione's going to be having a lot of fun poking and prodding at Tom Riddle.

AngelAzazel88 & Stephanie MRV – Don't you just love the irony?

Cecily Mitchell – Not going to lie, your comment gave me a good giggle.

* * *

Page count:24

* * *

 **Hogwarts – Friday 27th October, 1944**

"Given the circumstances, I am not sure that is wise, Miss. Nilrem."

"Don't be a sour lemon drop, Albus," Dippet chastised, looking to Hermione with an almost pitiful expression, and honestly, she didn't care for it.

"Armando, surely you can see that such an unnecessary and unplanned visit has too much risk. Miss. Nilrem is here for her safety and protection."

"Yes, she is believed to have escaped to the Americas, not Britain. I am certain she will be perfectly safe, from what I have heard, she is perfectly capable of defending herself." At the Headmaster's statement, Hermione blinked in surprise, certainly not expecting his words given that witches were thought to be weaker in this day and age. "But I do see the risk in having her unescorted," he admitted.

 _Oh God, no!_ Hermione thought, knowing exactly what was about to come out of the old coot's mouth before his brain had even offered up the thought.

"As such, I will see to it that she has a suitable escort, perhaps, Tom Riddle," he supplied. "He's proven to be trustworthy and we can ensure he will handle this responsibility impeccably, he is the perfect gentleman and will ensure Miss. Nilrem's safety."

What happened to her being able to defend herself?

"Oh, Headmaster, that offer is incredibly kind, but I would hate to pull Mr. Riddle away from his studies. I'm perfectly able to make the visit on my own."

"Miss. Nilrem, a young witch such as yourself should not be traipsing the streets without an escort, it is a dangerous world we live in," Dumbledore insisted.

 _A young witch such as herself?_ What was that supposed to mean? She barely fought back the scowl of annoyance.

"Honestly, Professor, I don't wish to cause so much hassle for something that is such a small issue."

"Nonsense," Dippet disagreed. "I will not allow a student to miss out on the festivities for something as easily rectified with a quick trip out of Hogwarts. It is not your fault that you came to Hogwarts so suddenly and without preparations for the term festivities, you were unaware of Hogwarts' school traditions. I am certain Mr. Riddle wouldn't mind escorting you."

"I happened to overhear one of his housemates on my way here, he explained to another that Mr. Riddle would later be studying very hard for an Arithmancy examination that is due to be taken on Monday. Arithmancy is a very challenging subject and requires much focus, I don't wish for Mr. Riddle to be disturbed, perhaps another escort might be best."

"Mr. Riddle works hard," he nodded in agreement, "Which is precisely why he could use a break from his studies, a bit of fresh air can work wonders for clearing the mind. It's to my knowledge you both have a free study period whilst the majority of your year will be attending their NEWT classes. You may leave the castle in this time but I insist that you return before the start of dinner this evening. If I were you, Miss. Nilrem, I'd bundle up, the weather is turning remarkably cold and I imagine it will be no different during your visit. It's my understanding that you have an apparition licence, correct? I will send word to Mr. Riddle to meet you by the entrance hall. I would suggest apparating into Hogsmeade and taking the floo directly from the Three Broomsticks."

"I hate to be so much trouble," she ducked her head, silently fuming. How the hell was she going to go through with her plans if she had Riddle looking over her shoulder?

"It is no trouble at all, Miss. Nilrem," Dippet assured her, Hermione noting that Dumbledore had been remarkably quiet since the mentioning of Riddle. "You better hurry along, you don't have a lot of time to ready yourself," he gave her a smile,

Hermione barely stopped herself from glaring at him in response. She knew what he meant. That she was a witch and witches took their time making sure their hair was perfect and their Makeup Charms were in place, should she happen to bump into a potential suitor. As if she would be so vain!

"Headmaster, Professor," she tipped her head before turning and leaving the office, quietly fuming as she made her way down the stairs and down the corridor, heading towards her dorm.

"Miss. Nilrem?"

Hermione paused and peered over her shoulder, clenching her hands into fists and taking a calming breath, forcing her magic back into herself. She couldn't allow anyone to know how powerful she truly was unless she wanted to make herself known, a target, of course, Tom Riddle was the exception.

"Professor," Hermione questioned politely, waiting for Dumbledore to fall into step beside her before she continued on her journey.

"Are you quite alright? I couldn't help but notice you were rather adamant that Mr. Riddle not be the one to escort you."

"I am fine, Professor," she assured him. "I don't have a problem with Mr. Riddle per se, rather of the fact that I require an escort at all."

"We live in dangerous times, Miss. Nilrem, Grindelwald may very well be searching for you. It would be foolish to assume he does not have spies."

"I know, Professor, that is why I have every intention of wearing a Glamour Charm to conceal my true identity," she lied. Really, there was no need for such a thing, Grindelwald had no clue who she was, but if word ever did get to him about her lie and he did discover her power and heritage, well, she was screwed. Riddle and Dumbledore she could handle. Riddle, Dumbledore _and_ Grindelwald, no thank you.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. How hadn't she noticed how annoying it was?

"It seems your Ravenclaw sorting was quite accurate. As for Mr. Riddle... "

"I don't trust him," she interrupted is long-winded speech before it could begin, not in the mood for it. "I don't believe that he would attempt anything untoward, particularly with both yourself and Headmaster Dippet knowing he is to be my escort. But if he should, I am more than capable of defending myself."

His eyes narrowed a fraction, searching her questioningly as he was reminded of her moment of weakness when she'd allowed her power to show during her duel with Riddle.

"I'm sure you can, Miss. Nilrem," he replied.

"If you would please excuse me, Professor, I don't have much time to change for my visit."

"Of course, remember to return to the castle before dinner."

Hermione nodded before stepping away from him and heading towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on her retreating back. If he was going to keep scrutinizing her, things would get a lot more difficult, but she did love a challenge.

~000~000~000~

"Miss. Nilrem," Tom Riddle greeted, offering her a charming smile as he approached.

Hermione twisted to look over her shoulder, scowling at him. "You're late, Mr. Riddle. I never took you as being one for tardiness."

His smile faltered a little before settling back on his face, his eyes narrowing slightly and his aura darkening as he grew closer. She wasn't afraid of him, not even when he stopped before her, his towering height forcing her to lift her head to keep eye contact.

"Usually I am not, however, my arrival was disrupted by a second year in need, as Head Boy, it was my duty to see to her."

"How chivalrous, it that not a Gryffindor trait?" She rolled her eyes, her mouth twitching at his clear annoyance. "You don't have to escort me anyway, Mr. Riddle, I'm perfectly sure you have better things to be doing, minions that can't function without you and whatnot."

Despite his annoyance, his lip twitched.

Well, she wasn't wrong, he silently admitted. They were idiots, even Malfoy despite the blonde having his favour.

"And I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Of course," he smiled placating and she narrowed her eyes.

"Don't patronize me; you are the only one who is aware that statement is quite true, or should I remind you of our duel?"

"A duel you did not win," he pointed out smugly.

"Neither did you," she fired back, "But I most certainly would have had Dumbledore not interrupted."

"You truly believe that, don't you?" He said, his amusement not hidden in his ice-blue gaze.

"I _know_ it," she lifted her head and folded her arms. "Anyway, I best be going, I have much to do and such little time to do it in."

She stepped around him and made her way out of the entrance doors, through the courtyard and across the grounds until she reached the large gates that led to Hogsmeade Village, Riddle having quickly fallen into step before she'd even left.

Turning to look at him, she said, "I assure you, you don't wish to escort me on this trip. It will be incredibly boring."

"I assure you, Miss. Nilrem, I _really_ do," he smirked, knowing that his mere presence was an annoyance to her.

"Don't you have better things to be doing? I gave you an out with Dippet, you could've taken it."

"Not particularly, as for your generous handiwork, I'd much rather it be me than Danvers or another prefect. You must be protected."

"And only you can do that?" She arched a brow at him.

"Of course," he smiled. "You, after all, Miss. Nilrem, are priceless, and we shan't let anything happen to you now, shall we?"

His hand came up, his knuckles softly skimming down the side of her cheek and she scowled at him and stepped back, scowling both at him and the shiver that passed through her. His hand was a lot warmer than she'd expected and the touch, it was quite intimate, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She hated him for it but at the same time, she wanted to turn into it.

"I'm not yours," she hissed.

His eyes flashed, something dark and possessive.

"Not yet," he smirked.

"Not ever!" She growled, her hands clenching into fists and her foot-stomping angrily.

He chuckled at the display and tapped a finger against her nose as if she were a tiny, cute kitten.

"Your anger is adorable," he shook his head, smiling down at her.

She barely stopped herself from reaching for her wand and hexing the smug bastard! But she couldn't stop the way her magic broke free, swarming them both, the thick tension of it like a blanket protecting them from the cold, heavy and heady.

Riddle took a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as his lashes brushed his cheekbones and he released a soft sigh, his eyes opening and appearing slightly darker than before.

"I will never be yours," she sneered.

He tipped his head and smiled. "You will be, I always get what I want, Miss. Nilrem."

"And what? That's me?" She scoffed. "There are plenty of witches in the castle, in Britain, in the _world_ , find someone else."

She stormed off, seething as he followed after her.

"Unfortunately, they are not you, now are they? They do not have such an incredible, helpful gift. They cannot help me, they cannot give me what I need."

"And I can?" She halted, turning to face him.

His eyes slowly took in every inch of her, from her wild curls pulled into a mess atop her head, the thick glasses perched on her button nose, the large, fire-crackling eyes that hid behind them and the plump, pink lips pulled into an unhappy scowl.

"What do you want from me?"

"Now, _that_ is the question," he murmured, his eyes continuing his perusal of her, moving down the column of her neck, over her cloaked form and ending at her black school shoes before returning to her face.

"I will have you, Nilrem."

"Over _your_ dead body," she hissed, her eyes flashing angrily, her magic thickened until it was suffocating and he watched entranced as little golden sparks frizzled around her hair.

Never before had he seen such a physical magical response to a witch's or wizard's fury. He knew that if they were powerful enough, an aura could be sensed, even seen, as he'd done during the duel and seeing the colours that surrounded her. He knew that his own aura appeared dark when his anger showed. But to see a _physical_ response, it was mesmerising, intriguing. The first time he'd witnessed it, he'd thought it was a fluke, maybe even a conjuring of his imagination, but now, now he knew she was far more powerful than he'd ever previously thought.

Powerful. Valuable. Knowledgeable.

He had to have her, even if he were forced to kill everyone that got in his way. She _would_ be his.

 _Strange_ , he thought, how a witch he'd met no fewer than seven weeks ago had made such an impression, had wormed her way into his thoughts, and all without trying. If anything, she went out of her way to avoid him and when that didn't work, she did everything she could to annoy him. He should want to kill her, but he didn't. She was too valuable to him, and he supposed, it wasn't a negative that she was pretty. She hid behind her glasses, hair and clothing, but she was naturally pretty. There was no lingering residual magic of Makeup Charms surrounding her, something he'd grown accustomed to over the years given the witches in his house.

But when she was angry, eyes dark and crackling with fire, hair wild and spitting golden sparks, cheeks tinged pink and pearly white teeth clenched tightly, her knuckles turning white from her firmly fisted hands, she was beautiful. Magnificent.

 _Perhaps she would be useful in more ways than one_ , he thought, his mouth twitching into a smirk. Having a witch on his arm would definitely prevent the female populace from assuming he was up for grabs, having a few fewer witches boring and annoying him with their flirtation was always a bonus. And from what he'd seen, Dumbledore was interested in her, protective possibly, and he did love to annoy the meddling old fool.

"Trust me, _Hermione_ ," he purred her given name, delighting in the way her eyes narrowed, her cheeks darkened and the aura of her magic slammed into his chest, forcing him to take a breath lest he suffocate. Merlin, this witch was intoxicating! "Someday, my body will be _over_ you," he finished with skimming his knuckles against her cheek once more.

She gasped in outrage, her hand coming up to bat his hand away from her and he laughed, the rich and dark sound he'd practised now being genuine.

Her mouth opened, a snappy retort, he was sure, on the tip of her tongue but he interrupted.

"Did you not say you had much to do but little time to do it? I am more than happy to stand and converse with you for as long as you wish, but we are due to return in a matter of hours."

She glared at him, looking as though she were contemplating kicking him in the shin or hexing him. He knew she'd messed with his thoughts when he found himself wondering what hex she would use, what it effects it might have and have dark it would be. She'd already proven that she did not care for light versus dark, good versus evil. Maybe it was one he'd never before seen, maybe he could learn it, too.

"I swear, Riddle, I am going to make this trip as unpleasant as I can for you," she threatened.

He chuckled. "But I have you to keep me company, nothing shall be unpleasant," he smiled.

She opened her mouth, pointed a threatening finger in his face, glared at him and then released a noise of frustration, throwing her hands up in the air.

"You are impossible," she hissed.

"On the contrary, I believe I am rather reasonable," he replied.

She growled before turning and storming off further down the pathway and away from the protective wards of Hogwarts.

Tom didn't bother holding back his laughter. Genuine, not faked or practised.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had thought she'd have to do a remarkable acting job as she made her way through the busy crowds of Diagon Alley, having never have supposed to have visited before, it would be suspicious if she knew where she was heading, but in all honestly, Diagon Alley was both the same and different.

Whilst she recognised most of the shops, the displays were not the same and some of them were even in the wrong part of the Alley, meaning sometime in the future, they'd moved premises. Looking like a lost little rabbit hadn't been all that hard to fake.

Tom chuckled at her from his place walking beside her.

"I swear, if one more person barges into me, I'm hexing them," Hermione huffed in annoyance, glaring over her shoulder at the retreating back of a heavily made-up witch, something Hermione thought did her no favours.

"As amusing as that would be, I am tasked with keeping you out of trouble."

"Clearly you don't know me, Riddle," she replied, having abandoned the 'Mr,' some time ago, and a sad but fond smile pulled at her mouth, memories of her past adventures flittering through her mind. "I have been known to break a few rules in my youth."

"Youth?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Youth, mine was taken from me, I was forced to grow for quicker than any child should be. I'd learned my first offensive and defensive spell and used them in practice by the time I was twelve. From there, it grew worse. And if you want to get technical, I am eighteen, an adult in _both_ worlds."

"Your birthday has already passed?" He questioned in surprise.

"Yes," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Now, seeing as I've never been here before," she lied, "Where's the nearest bank? I can't do anything I need to without the funds to do so."

Eyeing her curiously, he nodded once before his arm encircled her upper arm, just above her elbow and he pulled her through the crowd.

"You should know, I don't care for being manhandled," she scowled at the back of his head.

"It's not my fault you're tiny and easily lost in a busy crowd," he replied without looking back at her.

"Excuse me, I am average height!"

"Yes, but I'm sure most of that is your hair."

She gasped in outrage. "How dare you!"

"Oh, look at that, we're at the bank."

She snapped her mouth shut and her head lifted, her eyes locking on the large golden building of Gringotts Bank. It was just as imposing as she remembered it and the last time she'd been there, she'd stolen from a vault, caused thousands in damage and stolen their blind dragon. She wondered if it was still there. What was the life span of dragons, again? She couldn't remember.

Shaking her head, she peered down at the steps to prevent her from tripping.

"Don't be alarmed, Gringotts is run by goblins," Riddle informed her.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, thank you for that useless tidbit of information. I am aware; there are hundreds of Gringotts branches around the world," she responded sarcastically.

"You know, you never said. Were you raised in the Muggle World or the Wizarding World?"

She blinked, not expecting such a question and she bit her lip thoughtfully. How should she answer this one?

"Both," technically it wasn't a lie. She'd been with her muggle parents until the age of eleven, and then the Weasleys had all but adopted her from that point forward.

"How so?"

"My father never told my mother about the existence of magic until my magic started acting out."

"How old were you?" He asked curiously.

"Three, maybe four, I can't remember. I just remember her being there one day and then she disappeared for a while, finding it difficult to process the news. She came back as my father promised and when I turned eleven, we moved into the Wizarding World, but my father made it a point that I was able to survive in both worlds should I be required to. Before we officially moved, he used to take me for visits to nearby magical towns, he wanted me to know my heritage, see it from a young age so it wasn't too overwhelming."

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully.

He finally released her arm when they stepped through the doors of the building and Hermione took the lead heading to the large and very tall front desk.

"Do you have an account?"

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes. "I would not be here if I didn't. All of my funds were transferred to this branch once I'd learned I was transferring to Hogwarts."

Stopping before the goblin sat directly in the centre of the long desk, she cleared her throat until he lifted his gaze from the document before him.

"I'd like to visit my vault, please," Hermione said politely.

"Name?"

"Hermione Nilrem," she answered.

The goblin narrowed his black eyes and pushed his glasses further up his nose with his free hand.

"That is not a name that is recognised by this branch. Do you have a vault key?"

"No," she answered. "But I wish to visit my vault."

During their exchange, all of the goblins sat along the desk had stopped what they were doing and had turned their eyes to them, Hermione also feeling Riddle's gaze on the back of her head as he stood behind her.

"I believe it is vault..." She paused before she reached beneath her cloak and removed a piece of parchment from her robe pocket, unfolding it and then reaching up to hand it to him.

With the presence of Riddle, she hadn't wanted to say it aloud and had prepared a written validation.

Eyeing her suspiciously, the goblin lifted the parchment to his nose and carefully read over the words.

 _Hermione Nilrem (Merlin)_

 _Vault zero-five-phoenix-Camelot._

His entire body stiffened, all forty-eight inches of it, before his eyes snapped to her, back to the parchment and then to her once more, his eyes wide, mouth parted and the tips of his pointed ears wiggling comically.

"Oh My _Gold_ ," he croaked.

Hermione smiled politely. "Indeed, and I should like to see mine, if you please."

"Nagnook?" The goblin to the right questioned.

Silently, he handed the parchment over, the second goblin's eyes scanning it before he looked to her in surprise.

"That is not possible," he choked, his black eyes trained on her.

"And yet, here I stand. I don't have much time and I have a few errands to run before I take my leave, would you be so kind as to escort me to my vault. And perhaps my acquaintance might be supplied with a cup of tea, I am unsure of how long this might take."

"Yes, of course, Madame M... Nilrem," Nagnook, the first goblin said.

He all but jumped from his chair and snatched the parchment from the goblin beside him, to be disposed of as soon as possible to keep her identity hidden. She'd written it rather than spoken it for a reason, likely not wanting the wizard behind her to know, the goblin surmised, which is also why she went by a different name. _Wizards_ , he thought. She stood in plain sight. Merlin's heir. There'd been many over the years claiming to be the great Sorcerer's progeny but none of them had known the vault's true name, he _knew_ she was the one, with or without the blood wards acceptance test.

"Ragnorak, please show Madame Nilrem's guest to one of the offices and supply tea. Madame Nilrem, follow me, please," he said, leading the way towards the door behind the desk, being aware of the whispers that broke out amongst his fellow goblins as their eyes watched their departure.

Glancing over her shoulder, she wasn't surprised to see Riddle's scowl of annoyance trained on her retreating form. Another mystery for him to solve.

~000~000~000~

Hermione was certain the ride to the vault had taken almost an hour and she was highly nauseous by the time it came to an end. After taking a moment to collect herself, the goblin patiently waiting and asking after her health (something she hadn't expected), she climbed from the cart and onto the platform, her eyes taking in the single door. She'd seen the platforms, most had a good several dozen doors, why did this one only have one?

"Merlin is one of the first five members of wizarding society to invest with Gringotts, that not only makes him our most loyalist of clients, but one of our oldest," the goblin explained, apparently having seen the quizzical expression on her face.

Hermione nodded and followed him towards the large vault door, being surprised when it wasn't simply golden, rather, it held a giant red and orange phoenix slap bang in the centre and locked in the talons was a silver dagger.

Hermione blinked in surprise when the goblin pressed his hand against the door only for the dagger to disappear from the phoenix's talons and reappear, hovering before her. Without question she reached for it, the silver surprisingly warm in her grasp and the rubies imbued in the metal glinting in the firelight of the torches that lined the walls. She remembered her father's instructions and placed a cut to her left palm before pressing it to the door.

Moments ticked by before a blinding golden hue shone from beneath the door, so bright Hermione shut her eyes and turned her head. When the sound of singing softly entered her ears, Hermione's eyes opened and a gasp fell from her lips at the sight of the phoenix on the door, only it wasn't a mural and painting, it was alive.

It watched her with its black eyes and flapped its wings and she stumbled back, her hand falling from the vault door when it took flight, right off the door until it materialised before her, a living, breathing phoenix.

Hesitantly, she reached up and the phoenix tilted its head, a tear dripping on to her open wound, once, twice, three times, until smoke appeared and when it cleared, the cut was gone, healed.

"Thank you," Hermione said. "You know, you remind me very much of my phoenix, Athena," she said softly.

The phoenix opened its mouth, a beautiful song being released before she heard a 'click' and then the phoenix was gone, once more a non-moving mural on the vault door.

Blinking slowly, Hermione turned her eyes to the goblin before her, his black eyes watching her adoringly, Hermione half expected him to drop to his knees and kiss her shoes.

"Why have you been so kind to me?"

"Kind, Madame Merlin?" He spoke freely as they were without witnesses.

"Yes, kind. I was warned that I might be met with hostility before I was confirmed to be who I am, and even upstairs, you were polite by goblin standards."

His mouth twitched in amusement at her words, knowing that was quite true.

"Merlin was the first wizard to show kindness to our species. It is him that gave us the courage to fight for our rights, he showed us a better life, he paved the way to our freedom. We owe him everything. Everything that we are, everything we do and everything we have achieved, it is his doing."

"Sounds familiar," Hermione muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione cleared her throat, shuffling on her feet nervously. "You see, when I was younger, I started a campaign to free all house-elves from slavery," she admitted.

The goblin observed her before a gravelly chuckle sounded. "You truly are his heir," he nodded. "The vault is open, take as much time as you need. You may remove anything you wish regardless of amount or size. Everything inside the vault is yours and yours alone, Madame. Of course, I will have to file a report so we may keep up to date records, but such files are stored inside the vault, unlike other's which are kept upstairs. Your confidentiality and privacy are paramount and Merlin's vault has the best security of the entirety of Gringotts, he'd performed the magic himself during one of his returns."

"Thank you," Hermione said, already feeling overwhelmed and she hadn't even set foot inside the vault yet.

The goblin nodded before stepping aside and taking up a guard position by the vault door and Hermione reached out, her hand pressing against the door and it magically swung open. She was bathed in gold, silver, rainbows, the room magically lighting with balls of fire and light, the enormous piles of gold and silver and jewels reflecting off the light. Trunks of all sizes and shapes stood before her, as did the suits of armour, the jewellery the stacks of books and tomes and scrolls and the furniture looking to have been made during the Arthurian reign.

It was all too much, all so overwhelming; she stumbled back and caught herself on the wall. Everything before her, it was priceless, it was _history_ , she was sure she stood in a historian's heaven. It must've been worth millions. And it was all hers.

Merlin!

"Yes, My Child."

She blinked, slowly lifting her eyes from the ground and seeing that before her stood her smiling father. Had she said that out loud?

"Yes, you did," he smiled.

And that?

"That too," he chuckled.

Shaking her head, she took a breath. "I hadn't meant to."

"I know," he nodded. "But I sensed your need and so I came."

"This..." She trailed off, waving her hand around madly. "Where? How? What? When? Who? Huh?" She struggled to articulate and he chuckled before silently summoning a chair from the other side of the vault. The damn thing looked older than magic itself but that didn't stop Hermione from sitting on it.

"I believe I mentioned that Arthur paid me handsomely for my services."

"Yes, but..." She waved both hands madly and he laughed, shaking his head.

"I will explain how I achieved such wealth another time when you are capable of processing the information," he teased. "But I thought I might pop on by for a quick visitation, I have missed you, My Child."

Hermione shook her head before standing from the chair; once she was sure she had her footing and was no longer in danger of fainting, she closed the small distance between them and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He smelled like magic. Pure magic.

"I missed you, too, Father," she replied, not seeing his smile as she buried her face in his chest and his arms came up to cradle her against him.

"How is your mission fairing?"

"Like you don't already know, peeper," she snorted.

"Tell me anyway," he encouraged. "I can see, but I cannot feel your emotions or read your mind."

Hermione released a sigh and snuggled into him further. He was comforting, hugging him, she felt like a small child again, like he was sucking the fear and worries and stress right out of her.

"It is going as well as it can be given the abrupt change in plans. His interest in me has grown and I swear, he grows more infuriating by the day. He follows me, he has his minions follow me, he annoys me, he's insistent that I be his, in what context, I don't quite know yet."

"He is powerful and intelligent, incredibly so, but he is still a teenage boy and you, my little phoenix, are an incredibly powerful and intelligent witch, beautiful and mysterious."

"I'm not," she denied.

"You are," he argued.

"You're just saying that, you're my father."

He chuckled. "Maybe so, but I confess, I have been applauded for having such a daughter with both beauty and intelligence."

"You have not," she scoffed, pulling back from him.

"I have, Rowena is thrilled that you have been sorted into her house, Salazar annoyed you were stolen from him, Godric upset that you weren't re-sorted to your previous house, and Helga is worried that you are not surrounded by the kindness of her little ones. Morgana has been the most vocal, often praising your wild hair and fiery spirit, you very much remind her of herself when she was your age."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "She was your enemy!" She exclaimed.

"Precisely," he laughed. "She was my enemy and she is singing you praises, she would not do so if she did not believe it true. Morgana has never been one to tell lies."

"Goodness, Morgana thinks I'm pretty and Riddle won't leave me alone, it's official, I've gone mad," she whispered.

"No, you have not, I assure you."

Hermione gave her head a shake. "And Riddle?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I have been watching him, of course,"

"Of course," she tipped her head.

"As have the others, of which, I might add, find your interactions with the young Slytherin heir, mighty entertaining. It has been a long while since I last saw Salazar almost wet himself in laughter."

"He is pleased I am making things so difficult for his heir?" She questioned in surprise.

"My Child, he _adores_ you."

Okay, _now_ she'd gone mad.

"Observing from above unnoticed, I admit, we may have a bit of a wager in place," he admitted sheepishly.

She'd never seen such an expression on his face.

"Meaning?" She arched her brow.

"Well, half of the Elders believe Riddle is only interested in your power, your knowledge."

"Which he is," Hermione nodded. "The other half?"

"Well, the other half believe he is interested in _much more_."

"Oh hell no," she scrunched her face up and he chuckled at her.

"He is quite the handsome wizard," he needled.

"He's also a murdering psychopath," she scoffed.

"He has yet to do any of this future acts," he pointed out.

"Yes, but he's already killed _four_ people and made two Horcruxes."

He tipped his head, conceding her point. "He may not seek redemption or want it, but he can change, alter his behaviour. If that requires a relationship to be formed with him, romantic or otherwise, could you do it?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I mean, he's _Riddle_. The future Dark Lord to destroy the world as we know it."

"But now he is a teenage boy, a young man to have never known love or kindness. No one is born evil, little phoenix. Perhaps it is your influence that alters his current way of thinking."

"Perhaps it's not," she countered. "But being in a relationship... Sleeping with... _Riddle_ ," she shivered. "It was _never_ the plan."

"But what if it's what is needed. Could you do it?" He pressed.

"I honestly don't know. I've prepared myself for being a member of his inner circle, his right hand, possibly even a confidante, but a lover, girlfriend, companion, that's something else entirely," she frowned. "How do I distinguish between who he is now and who I know him to become. How do you feel about such a relationship?"

He smiled. "I have no say in the matter, little phoenix, this can only be your decision. I am not saying it will come to fruition, but if it does, you must decide. I only want you to be safe, to be happy. If you decide to return to the future once your mission is complete, you will be returning not to a world you once knew but something else entirely. There is no guarantee you will have formed the same friendships or had the same experiences. Hermione Granger may very well have never gone to Hogwarts but Beauxbatons instead. Harry and Ron, the Weasleys, may never know you, may never be born or maybe be born to a different time, we do not know the outcome until it arrives."

Hermione nibbled her lip, already knowing all of this and she'd been purposely putting the thought of having to make a decision on returning or staying to the back of her mind.

"I only want you happy and safe, Salazar on the other hand," he paused and she looked up at him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "He is much for the idea of you one day marrying the Slytherin heir and producing Slytherin-Merlin babies." Hermione choked on her breath. "I know, he is a bit forward, he's spent over a millennia with Godric and has picked up a few of his traits, it would seem," he chuckled. "Salazar has always been like a brother to me, even during our living years, he's wished to merge our families for a long time and now it may be possible."

"Not likely," she scowled.

"As I said, it is your decision, your mission. Do as you see fit. It is perfectly alright if you find yourself developing feelings for him. Yes, he is challenging and technically a murderer, but keep in mind, Myrtle Warren's death was an accident and he only harmed his muggle family after he'd discovered they'd known he'd been in the orphanage and they wanted nothing to do with him due to his mother's actions. They punished an innocent child. You, yourself, have a temper and I know you lose control, I have seen it. Perhaps Riddle did the same, perhaps he had no intention of killing them that night, only to meet them. It does not matter. He is still a young wizard, he is handsome, he is charming, he is intelligent and he is powerful. Were it not for his past deeds, I see no reason why you would be hesitant in entering a relationship with him."

"Maybe," she muttered.

"I best return, the others get mighty pouty when I'm gone too long, and I believe it is my turn to host dinner."

"What exactly do you do up there?" She questioned in intrigue.

"You'd be surprised," he smiled. "Now, should you need me, you know I will be here."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before disappearing from view and Hermione released a sigh before sitting on the chair once more, half expecting it to break under her weight.

~000~000~000~

"You've been gone over an hour," was the greeting that met her, a furiously scowling Tom Riddle approaching her after being collected from the office he'd been dumped in whilst she'd been gone.

"Have I?" She questioned in surprise. She'd surely thought it'd been longer, perhaps her hatred of the cart ride had made it seem far longer than it actually was and her father had likely frozen time as he often did when visiting her, not wanting her to be late to classes should he show up before a lesson.

"Yes," he replied unhappily.

"Sorry, I hadn't realised, I was as quick as I could be. Well, I suppose we better continue with my list of errands before time runs out."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed out of the building.

"Are you going to tell me what happened? The goblins were positively gleeful after your departure."

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but I've recently discovered that my father had a great influence on the goblins and they very much respect him. As for any of your other questions, I'm not answering them."

"You're impossible," he told her.

"On the contrary, I believe I'm rather reasonable," she replied innocently. His eyes flashed, recognising she was using his own words against him. "Now, where's the nearest clothing establishment, I require something for the ball tomorrow."

He blinked slowly, falling into step beside her. "The ball?"

"Yes, why did you think I was allowed to leave the castle on such short notice? All the students were aware of the ball before the start of term and therefore brought their festive garb with them, I had no idea. Dippet was adamant that I not be excluded or allowed to miss out simply because I didn't have anything ball appropriate to wear, hence, our little outing."

"You told me you don't care for such things."

"And I don't, believe me, I'd much rather spend the money on books or maybe even pie," she sighed, "You know, if you don't annoy me for the rest of the trip, I might buy you one for the walk back to the floo connection."

"Bribing me with food?" He arched a brow.

"Yes," she answered shamelessly. "It often works for me, but it has to be the _right_ food."

Tom hummed, storing the innocently divulged piece of information for later use.

"Anyway, my original point, I don't care for such things but I do care that I look half-decent. I can't be bothered with the gossip should I arrive in my school robes, hence, a dress is needed, and, I've been invited to Slughorn's party on Tuesday night, I can't very well waltz up in my robes or the dress I might wear to the ball, he told me there was a very specific dress code. So, I'm in search of two outfits, not one."

She wasn't all that surprised when he took her to Twilfit and Tattings and not Madam Malkins. She'd never actually been inside the shop but she'd gotten a glimpse through the window when walking past before, and the decor did not surprise her. This was where the wealthy witches came, which explained the chandeliers, the plush furniture, the regal purple and silver, and of course, the price tags.

A witch was upon them instantly and as Hermione quickly explained the situation, the older witch's kind blue eyes widened comically before she flicked her wand at her hair, the grey strands gathering in a knot at the back of her head, looking as though she was preparing to go to war.

With a swish of her wand, Hermione found her cloak and robes missing, leaving her in the blue floral dress. The witch was dashing about, selecting items from racks and positioning them behind a velvet curtain, moving quicker than Hermione had expected of the frail-looking woman.

Her eyes darted to Tom, asking, "Is she serious?" Only he didn't answer, his eyes were roaming her body, taking in her figure in a way he'd never been able to before. This was the first time she was without her uniform or robes, and the dress she wore might have been a little tighter than appropriate but it was comfortable for her.

"Riddle!" She hissed.

His eyes snapped to her, gleaming as his mouth tugged into a smirk.

"Yes?" He questioned.

"Have some respect," she scowled, folding her arms over her chest.

His smirk widened and her eyes narrowed before she stormed off in a huff, determined to browse the shop and select at least one option herself, the witch looked to have already selected half of the shop's stock.

An hour and a half later found Hermione behind the velvet curtain, trying on gown number...She couldn't remember, she'd lost count. This is why she _hated_ shopping. She was bored, hungry, her arms ached and her body hurt from being squeezed into too-tight corsets and gowns.

"Oh, you look lovely," the witch cooed, standing behind Hermione. Hermione searched her reflection in the mirror, a grimace pulling at her mouth. "No?"

"No, it's too... Pink," she winced.

The witch laughed softly before nodding, helping Hermione out of the gown and selecting another from the pile.

"This one?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's too, poofy."

"This one?"

"Where's the rest of it?" She asked scandalised.

She's tried on nearly every dress but three and the witch had disappeared to browse the gowns she had out the back, gowns that weren't technically for sale yet. She returned not long later.

"Dearie," the witch said from behind the curtain, "Why don't we ask your boyfriend for his opinion? Perhaps he might have an idea of what he wishes to see you in?"

Hermione popped her head through the velvet curtain, keeping it secure so to not flash anyone as she partially dressed. She looked over to Riddle, scowling at him when he didn't correct the witch. In fact, he was casually sat in a plush armchair, leaning back with his right ankle perched on his left knee, his arms resting on the armrests, looking comfortable, the perfect picture of ease.

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione insisted.

"Yet," Riddle interrupted with a smirk and Hermione glowered at him something fierce.

"Ever," she corrected. "He was tasked with escorting me through Diagon Alley, if I'm honest, he's a massive pain in my backside and has been since the day I met him."

"You flatter me," he smiled charmingly.

Hermione scowled before disappearing back through the curtain, trying dress number... She gave up trying to remember. Kill her now! She'd thought Riddle might be the one to kill her, not damn shopping.

"Don't be too disheartened," Hermione heard the witch say. "I'm sure things will work out as they're supposed to. I confess, the two of you remind me very much of myself and my husband. I couldn't stand the man when we first met and now, we've been married sixty-three years."

Hermione scowled at his reply. "I only hope she gives me the chance you gave your husband."

She wanted to smack him in the face.

"I'm sure she will."

"I can hear you!" Hermione called through the curtain.

"Sorry, Dearie, I'll have another look in the back, I won't be long," the witch spoke, her retreating footsteps unheard due to the carpeted floorings.

Trying on the final dress, Hermione scowled and had lost all hope. Perhaps she'd just have to choose the least loathed one. Sighing, she popped her head through the curtain once more, her mouth tugging into a smirk when she saw Riddle's head tipped back as he stared at the ceiling, his fingers agitatedly tapping against the armrests.

"Bored yet?" She questioned innocently.

He lifted his head and smiled at her. "On the contrary, I'm rather enjoying myself. It has been a while since I have felt so relaxed. If I'm honest, sitting here, it has been the best two and a half hours of my week."

Hermione scowled. "Oh? Not your month? Year? Decade? Heaven forbid, your life?"

"Have I ever told you how amusing you are?" He tilted his head.

"Have I ever told you have annoying you are?" She fired back.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "Why don't you show me the gown you're currently wearing, perhaps I might give my opinion."

"Perhaps I don't care for it," she replied, retreating behind the curtain and glaring at her reflection when she heard his laughter. Today Riddle was on top form, she'd give him that.

The witch returned with several gowns and Hermione tried them all one except two, the last two.

Trying on the second to last gown, her eyes widened in surprise and the woman behind her smiled.

"Yes?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded quickly before she changed her mind and the witch laughed.

"Excellent, let's hope you feel the same about the final gown. I overlooked them the first time, they were well hidden, here's hoping..."

The second and final gown, Hermione's eyes widened further.

"Yes?"

Hermione nibbled at her lip. "I'm not sure about the colour," Hermione admitted.

"Nonsense, it suits you perfectly, compliments your skin tone perfectly."

"Alright," Hermione agreed, not because she agreed with her words, rather, she wanted to leave. If she had time, she'd make a quick stop to Flourish and Blotts, she needed more reading material.

Hogwarts' library, admittedly, was only good for so much.

Redressing, the woman sent the rejected dressed back to their places, the pile actually being bigger than Hermione, and she took the two chosen dresses to the counter, hidden by the garment bags so only she and the witch -what was her name again?- knew their design.

"Finished?" Riddle asked as she stepped out from behind the curtain.

"You sound eager," she noted, pleased.

"I only wish to ensure you are happy with your choices," he replied.

She scowled at him, grabbed her robes and cloak from the second armchair and slipped them on before heading for the counter. After the alterations had been made and thankfully they didn't require a lot, Hermione paid for the dresses, the cost more than anything she'd ever bought. In fact, they'd cost more than three years worth of Christmas presents, including _all_ of the Weasleys.

"How much longer do we have before we need to return?" Hermione asked, after having accepted the shrunken down packages and approaching Riddle.

Silently, she noted, he cast a Time Charm.

"A little under an hour."

"Perfect," she grinned, turning and leaving the shop, Riddle following after her with an arched eyebrow, seeing she was moving quicker than she had during the entire trip and she was suddenly excited.

She'd seen Flourish and Blotts on the way to Gringotts and so she led the way, stepping inside the warmth and breathing in the smell of ink, leather and parchment. This was familiar.

"So, this is what gets you excited?" Riddle questioned.

"Shut up," she grumbled, heading to the counter where a young man perched on a stool, a dusty tome held up against his face. "Excuse me," she said.

The man lowered the book, his dark eyes slowly trailing the features of her face before his mouth tugged into a smile and he reached up, brushing a few golden strands from his face.

"Can I help you?" He leaned forward, arms pressed against the counter, his eyes level with hers.

"Yes, actually, I'm interested in your Azkaban collection."

"I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest what you mean," he replied, smiling charmingly. "Perhaps there is something else that might be of interest to you?" He said, his eyes dipping lower.

"Afraid not, I'm specifically in need of something for the Azkaban collection."

"Honestly, Miss..."

"Nilrem," she supplied.

"Miss. Nilrem, we have no such collection."

"Liar," Hermione said, digging her hand into her robe pocket and removing a pouch of galleons, dropping it onto the counter with a heavy thud. "And now? Still have no such collection?"

The young man's eyes darted down to the pouch, up to her and then to Riddle who stood behind her. The moment he did so, a fear-stricken look crossed his face.

"I'll be right back," he muttered, scrambling from his stool and disappearing into a back room.

Arching an eyebrow, Hermione twisted to look behind her, seeing Riddle's dark, impressively frightening glare trained on the door that slammed shut.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," he replied, turning his eyes to her and smiling charmingly.

She snorted. "It seems this shop is full of liars today," she commented. "You did something, I know you did. He was fine until he looked at you. Why is that?"

"He doesn't seem much older than us, perhaps he recently graduated Hogwarts and recognised my face."

"And that would cause terror, why?"

"I don't know," he frowned.

She scoffed. "What did you do? Torture him? Bully him? Have your minions kick the crap out of him?"

"You truly think so little of me?" He questioned, his voice hinting hurt.

"Yes," she said without fear. "I know you, Riddle. I've seen you at your worst. I know what you're capable of."

As if saying something she shouldn't have, Hermione gasped, let her eyes widen and she slapped her hand over her mouth. It was part of the plan. He'd been pushing her buttons all day; it was time to take back control.

Riddle looked positively gleeful as he stepped forward, caging her between him and the counter at her back and he leaned in close, his hands settling against the counter on either side of her and he stared down into her horrified eyes.

"You've _seen_ me," his voice lowered. "Oh, you clever little witch. Thank you for confirming what I already knew. Tell me, have seen me in the past, or the future?"

"I've no idea what you're talking about," she lied, her hand dropping from her mouth.

He smirked. "Hermione, it seems this shop is full of liars today," he muttered softly, his gazing boring into hers.

Her eyes widened for real and she found her breathing halt to a stop when he leaned closer, the tip of his cold nose brushing her throat as he nuzzled at her.

Her father's words suddenly slammed into her like a ton of bricks.

Why was he doing this? Did he truly want more than she'd previously realised or was he doing it to make her feel uncomfortable, to get under her skin and make her squirm? She didn't know what to do, she felt a battle brewing. Should she shove him away, deny any chance of a relationship whether he wanted one or not, should she tug him close and play it up, should she give in and let him seduce her? It was all too much.

"I hear you're interested in the Azkaban collection," a voice sounded.

Hermione shoved Riddle away from her and glared at him before turning to face an older looking man, refusing to blush at the comprising position he'd found them in.

"Yes, I am," she stated.

"May I ask what for?"

"You may, but I won't answer."

He cocked an eyebrow, his green eyes observing her curiously. "Fair enough, your contribution to the charity of disadvantaged children?"

Hermione silently reached out and shoved the galleon pouch across the desk, the older man catching it and peering inside, his eyes lighting up.

"Excellent, your contribution is very much appreciated and will help many children in need."

"Yes, I'm sure it will," she responded dryly.

"Follow me," he beckoned, leading the way through the stacks and to the back of the shop.

"What's the Azkaban collection?" Riddle asked.

She peered up at him, she was going to trust him with this. She knew she shouldn't, but she was going to. To earn trust, you had to give it. She was taking the first step whether he knew it or not. Besides, this was nothing too terrible, probably a little worse than the Restricted Section, of which, children had access to with a pass.

"You'll see and I'm sure you'll approve."

They came to a stop at a dead-end only the wizard waved his wand and a door appeared, which he opened and stepped inside, waiting for them to follow.

The moment Tom stepped into the room, the dark aura brushed his over his skin, a shiver shooting down his spine.

"Answer enough for you?" She asked him.

"Most definitely," he nodded in agreement, his eyes greedily scanning the shelves containing hundreds of books, all of them dark, illegal, archaic or all three. How did she know of such a place? Scanning the titles on his right, he'd only heard tales of their existence. He'd expect to find such works in Knockturn Alley, not Flourish and Blotts, kiddies books.

"You have fifteen minutes."

The door shut behind them and Hermione pulled her wand, shooting a ball of light above to better light the room. He was itching to get his hands on some of the titles but knew better than to touch them, they were dark for a reason, most of them cursed. Instead, he followed her as she slowly browsed each bookshelf, her fingers hovering over each title as she passed but never touching.

"Boring... Boring... Read that one... And that one... Boring... Oh Merlin, _dreadfully_ boring... Possibly... Nearly put me to sleep... Interesting... Maybe... Definitely not... Ewe, Necromancy, disgusting... Necrophilia, why on earth... Revolting... Oh, interesting... Hmm, perhaps... Divination, give me a break... Now, there you are, just the one I've been looking for, come to mamma..."

She levitated a book from the shelf, careful not to touch it but he hadn't gotten a glimpse at the title, she was too quick and he'd been too distracted listening to her internal-external musings. Damn was the witch interesting. He loathed her for it, he admired her for it.

"Well, we're here, might as well get the others, too," she said to herself, levitating a number of books ensuring she didn't touch them and they didn't touch each other. She looked over to him, his expression remarkably blank given what she was showing him. "I love a good challenge, don't you? Let's go, we don't have long until we're due back at the castle, and seeing as you didn't interrupt me or annoy me during my search, I might just buy you that pie after all. Come along, Riddle."

She flicked her wand, stepping out of the room and he followed after her, noting the books fitted with an Illusion Charm to hide their true titles and contents.

"How do you plan to sneak them into the castle?" He asked curiously.

She turned to look over her shoulder, arching an eyebrow. "Sneak?" She laughed. "Riddle, I plan to _walk_ in with them. They won't be detected."

"How?"

She smirked. "I have my ways."

"If you are interested in such titles, why not search the Restricted Section?"

"I have, I was bored after a week."

His brow furrowed. "You require a pass to enter," he said knowingly, besides, he spent a _lot of_ time there; he'd never once seen her.

"Do you?"

"Yes," he narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, oops,"

She placed the books on the counter, the older wizard wrapping each of them carefully, making sure not to touch them.

"You are aware..." He started but she interrupted him.

"Yes, yes, if I die, my fault, if I get injured, cursed, possessed, all the fun stuff, it's my fault."

Tom's eyebrows shifted upwards.

Who in the name of Merlin was this witch?


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

Your reviews for the previous chapter have been flying in and it's safe to safe that you guys are _the_ absolute sweetest!

Here's another massive chapter! 25 pages and 11,000+ words. I wasn't able to fit Slughorn's party in this chapter given how full of content it is, but we'll see that outcome in the next chapter.

If you've been receiving phantom updates for any of my other works, it's because I'm in the process of editing them. I plan to make a return to 'Pack Life' and 'Even in Death' and hopefully soon as they are both near enough completed with a handful of chapters to be written.

But like I did with 'The English Rose' I won't be working or posting any new material until I've edited what I've already written. Not only does it help me get back into the swing of things and find motivation to complete it, but it means I don't have to edit as many chapters when I've eventually completed them. I'll let you know when I'm closer to the posting stage.

 **Q &A**

Ash – Sorry, I couldn't make the two weeks. Family wise everything's alright, except for the fact there's a messy-arse court case being set in motion regarding will readings and inheritance and all that fun stuff. I'm staying well away from it, it's got nothing to do with me. Work's been taking over my life lately which is why I haven't had time to write anything, let alone post anything. Working two jobs isn't easy but without it I can't afford to live, so, I just gotta suck it up. Why is everything so blood expensive? And given this chapter is longer than the previous one (something I didn't think was possible) Am I forgiven yet?

Stephanie MRV – Exactly! We've got to have some fun toying with him, but we've got to take into account that whilst he's a borderline monster, right now, he still has all his sanity and faculties and he's yet to do most of the things he did in Hermione's time. Right now, he's Tom Riddle, teenager, not Voldemort, murdering psychopath, which will hopefully make it easier to distinguish between the two.

Black Banshee - So glad you like it. It took me ages to find the perfect one. I briefly considered, ' _All_ My Gold,' but ultimately settled with 'Oh My Gold,' thinking it fit better.

HpMarrzi – I haven't yet decided on Grindelwald's fate or future, but as for the other Elders, possibly. You'll have to keep an eye out...

Freyja-Njorda – Have faith in me and I will not steer you wrong, is all I'm going to say.

Nortia2 – Maybe one or two...

JRock – So glad you enjoyed it. I love writing their bickering and snark.

* * *

Page count: 25

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Saturday 28th October 1944**

Staring at herself in the mirror, scrutinizing her reflection, Hermione, and not for the first time, missed Ginny.

Ginny would know exactly what to say to boost her confidence. Ginny would know exactly how much makeup to apply to keep it minimal and natural, but also noticeable. Ginny would know exactly what charms to use to calm her wild curls and fix her hair in an elegant updo that would most compliment her facial structure. She'd know exactly what accessories and shoes would compliment her gown.

Hermione would not have gotten through the Yule Ball back in her fourth year had it not been for the fiery redhead, she would not have gotten through her first official date with Viktor Krum when they'd snuck off to Hogsmeade during one of the open weekends, and she wouldn't have gotten through Bill and Fleur's wedding either. It was times like these when she truly appreciated the little Weasley's eye for fashion and detail. But without her there, she'd had to make do with what she had, hoping she'd look even remotely decent.

Hermione wasn't vain and never had been, but was it so bad to want to look nice every once in a while?

Sighing to herself, her eyes scanned her appearance. Why was the Halloween Ball already upon them? It seemed to have skipped ahead a few weeks. That morning when she'd woken, she hadn't felt like attending breakfast and had snuck down to the kitchens, it being early enough and a Saturday that she'd barely encountered anyone. She'd taken breakfast, sitting at one of the tables as the house-elves bustled around, preparing for the feast later that evening. She'd returned to her room and spent the majority of her time reading from her newly acquired books, snacking on the foods Tiggy had sent up for her, a house-elf that had taken quite a shine to her and she didn't mind, he was a sweetheart and he very much reminded her of Dobby only not as _nuts_.

Before she knew it, it had grown dark and she'd groaned to herself, knowing she'd best get ready as she'd spend most of her wrestling with her hair. Begrudgingly, she'd lowered her book and stood from her comfortable couch, trudging to the bathroom. She'd taken a shower, staying under the spray of the water for as long as she dared before wrapping her hair in a towel and her body in a silk bathrobe, the same pale blue as her bedsheets.

She'd spent almost ten minutes before the mirror, struggling with what to do next before selecting a book on Beauty Charms and leafing through it, gingerly applying a thin layer of mascara to her eyelashes and a nude glittered eye shadow. Not trusting herself with anything else, she'd lathered herself in her favourite honey-scented lotion and then stepped into her dress, using magic to do up the hidden zip in the back.

After turning her attention to her hair, she'd used a Drying Charm until it fell down her back in soft, unruly ringlets, taking a moment to decide what to do with it. She'd already discarded the idea of using Sleakeazey's Potion, one, it had not yet been invented and two, whilst the results for the Yule Ball had been good, several hair washes were required to remove all traces of the potion and it left an odd burnt smell for almost two weeks after. She'd rather the wild hair than the lingering smell and gooey, sticky substance. As such, she did her best to tie it against the nape of her neck in an elegant updo, huffing in annoyance when rebel curls kept escaping. Hermione had used more hairpins than any woman had a right to own.

Releasing a growl, she scowled at her reflection and added _another_ pin, clipping a curl back into place and leaving one or two to frame her face. Knowing she wasn't going to do much better, she settled for what she'd already achieved. Releasing a puff of breath, she smoothed her hands down the soft, silky fabric of her gown, admiring the simplicity of it. Her gown, whilst not overly revealing or inappropriate, was tight and fit to her frame like a second skin. Her arms and shoulders were covered, the sleeves falling all the way down to her wrists. The dress hinted at cleavage with a slight v-neck but was appropriate for the time period, and it cinched in at the waist before flaring down to her feet, the skirt swishing and swaying when she walked. Not trusting herself to accessorise correctly, she'd settled with what she usually wore, her silver studded earrings and the phoenix pendant her father had gifted her for her birthday.

Catching a glimpse of the time from her still in effect Time Charm, Hermione knew she had to leave if she was going to be punctual, being expected to meet her escort to the ball by the great hall doors. She reached for her glasses and scowled at them as she slipped them on her nose; she hadn't had a problem with them before but when she wore them for long periods of time, they started to rub against the bridge of her nose or behind her ears, and when she fell asleep reading with them still on, she'd wake with marks and indentations in her skin.

Looking over her shoulder at Athena perched on the footboard of her bed, Hermione said,

"What do you think, Girl?" Athena flapped her wings and released a squawk, tipping her head slightly to the side. "Thank you," Hermione replied, smoothing out her dress once more. "I shall leave the window open for you but remember to be careful not to be seen. I know you like to bring me gifts and I appreciate the gesture, but please, do not bring mice or rats in here, dead or alive." Athena released another squawk. "Good girl," she praised, softly stroking her vibrant feathers as she walked past, collecting her wand, cancelling the Time Charm and slipping it up her sleeve before leaving her rooms.

She met very few people as she journeyed down to the great hall, being sure to take every secret passageway she knew but also knowing she and her escort were meeting a little earlier than most, wanting to have no issue with finding a seat for the feast.

As she approached the great hall, the doors were already open and voices could be heard coming from inside, some witches being escorted in on the arm of their date, giggling madly. She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

As she neared, she caught sight of him. Her escort for the evening and a near-fond smile tugged at her mouth. He looked remarkably similar to his Grandson, Hermione thought. He stood tall at six foot, his posture perfect and his hands clasped behind his back as he waited by the doors. His hair was a shade darker than his Grandson's had been but it was still blonde and his eyes a shade darker of blue, but they had the same pale skin and the same small nose free of freckles or blemishes. His robes were dark and perfectly pressed, put quite simple compared to some of the more traditional styles she'd seen others wearing, both in this time and her previous one. She appreciated that. They'd both blend in.

She'd been surprised when he'd approached her in the library, shyly asking if he might be her escort. She hadn't been lying to Riddle, he _had_ looked so hopeful and the thought of hurting his feelings hadn't settled well with her, so she'd agreed. But she'd also accepted his invitation because she knew his Grandson, not well mind, but they'd been in the same year at Hogwarts and from what she remembered, Ernie Macmillan had been quiet but sweet. He'd been a member of the DA and she'd caught sight of him fighting during the Final Battle. Like his Grandfather, he'd been a Hufflepuff. They were harmless.

"Michael," Hermione greeted, placing a friendly smile on her face.

Michael Macmillan turned his eyes to her, a smile pulling at his face.

"Hermione," he replied, holding his hand out to her as she closed the distance between them. "You look lovely," he complimented, taking his hand in hers and bowing over it before returning to full height.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. You, however, are looking quite dapper this evening."

His smile widening, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Should we find a table?"

Hermione nodded and fell into step beside him as they stepped into the great hall, Hermione not paying attention to where Macmillan was leading them as her eyes surveyed her surroundings. It most certainly wasn't what she'd expected. She'd remembered the Halloween Feasts from her own years at Hogwarts and they differed vastly. She'd expected the house tables to remain where they were and piled with food, for jack o' lanterns to be floating above and for bats to flitter above the hall. It wasn't that. There were no house tables, rather a large number of circular tables fitted with dark table cloths, reminding her of the layout of the Yule Ball.

Lit torches lined the walls and thousands of candles floated above, the enchanted ceiling depicting a dark but clear starry night sky. Black candelabras were perched on the windowsill of each window, bronze in the centre of each table and tall black ones in each corner of the room, on either side of the doors and either side of the head's table, which remained. A raised platform sat a collection of musical instruments, an orchestra she supposed, but given the lack of chairs, they would be charmed to play themselves. Charmed skulls were set up along with an Alchemy display, cobwebs covering the vials and equipment and the chandeliers above. It was a lot darker than she'd thought it would be, more gothic, she realised. That was the difference between Dippet and Dumbledore.

"They use the same decorations every year," Macmillan spoke from beside her, drawing her attention. "Dippet is fond of his traditions, I just think he's lazy," he commented and Hermione made a humming noise of agreement. "But despite that, I can't help but be impressed."

"It is impressive," she agreed. "I will never tire of the magic in this castle," her eyes tipping up to the ceiling once more.

They reached a table which was already almost filled, only a few seats available and he held her chair out for her like the Pureblood he was, tucking her in before taking a seat beside her. Macmillan was welcomed by the other occupants, (all Hufflepuffs, she thought) they barely glanced at her. It didn't bother her and she'd prefer it that way. Once they'd taken their seats, Macmillan fell quiet but that didn't bother her either as she silently sipped from her water and continued to survey her surroundings.

Not long later, all seats were taken and the staff had arrived, Dippet stood to make a speech. Hermione almost fell asleep. For someone how looked to be on their deathbed and could barely stand without aid, he sure could talk a load of nonsense, most of which, she blocked out. The moment he retook his seat, food appeared on their tables and Hermione barely stopped herself from sighing. She was starving.

Quietly, she selected her food items and ate in silence, quiet conversation happening around her but Macmillan remained silent. She wondered why. When he'd asked her to the ball, he'd been shy but had managed to get the words out. He'd spoken more to her during her arrival and their entrance than he ever had, and now, he was silent again, but, she didn't question it and let it be. She had no intention of staying the entirety of the night. She'd have her dinner and perhaps a dance or two and then she'd make her excuses and leave.

Before she knew it, the feast was over and the ball officially began. Tables were banished to make way for the dance floor but a few remained behind so students could mingle and take a rest. Hermione remained in her seat with Macmillan whilst the rest of their table surrounded the dance floor with the majority of the students. Tom Riddle stood in the centre, dressed smartly in perfectly pressed dark robes that contrasted against his skin. His hair was neatly combed, not a single strand out of place and his dress shoes had a shine that allowed for reflections to be seen. She rolled her eyes and sipped at her water. Of course, he would be perfect. Hillary Denvors stood opposite him, clothed in a yellow, conservative gown that complimented her skin tone well. Hermione thought she looked quite pretty with her usually straight hair hanging in loose waves, a half-up half-down hairstyle that framed her face. Riddle didn't look impressed. His face remained passive.

When the orchestra began, Riddle stepped forward and took Denvors' hand in his, beginning a dance that was similar to the opening dance she'd done with Viktor, only it was slightly slower and there didn't appear to be any lifts. As she'd expected, he led Denvors around the dance floor smoothly, his movements graceful and poised. When the music ended, applause rung out and another melody played, most of the students stepping onto the floor and partaking in the festivities, some returned to the small number of tables and others moved off to the side, conversing with one another by the walls or the drinks table which had been set up.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how long had passed but she was growing bored and tired, she'd almost dozed off and spilt her water over her lap. When she saw the younger years starting to take their leave, having been expected to vacate the hall after a certain time, she took that as her signal. Soon she'd been able to slip away. But first, she had to keep up appearances. She'd been more than aware of both Dumbledore and Riddle watching her, though one had been subtler than the other.

She turned her eyes to Macmillan. He'd barely spoken to her.

"Michael, would you care for a quick spin about the dance floor? It seems such a waste to not enjoy it whilst we can."

He lifted his eyes to her, a smile pulling at her mouth. "I'd love to."

He stood from his chair and held his hand out expectantly, Hermione placing her hand in his and accepting his aid in rising from the chair. He led her to the dance floor and through the crowd of students, his hand slipping to her waist and not wandering any lower as he quickly fell into step with the music.

Hermione had never been a great dancer but with Viktor, it hadn't mattered. He knew what he was doing and she'd trusted him and that trust led her to have a great time that night as he led her about the dance floor effortlessly despite his large frame leading people to believe he wouldn't be grateful. Macmillan, while being far from a bad dancer, messed up a step or two and wasn't as graceful when leading her about the dance floor but she was sure to keep a friendly expression on her face. Thankfully, the two dances she'd planned to have come and went and he led her from the dance floor and that's when Hermione made her excuses.

"But you can't leave yet," he frowned. "We've barely been here a couple of hours."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Michael, but I cannot help that I have a migraine. The music is quite loud this evening and I am not used to such crowds."

His frown deepened before he gave his head a shake. "Okay," he nodded once. "But you can't leave until you've tried the punch. They only serve it during tonight's feast. You won't regret it, I promise."

Seeing his hopeful expression, Hermione reluctantly agreed and she stood off to the side, tucked away from the other students when he disappeared to the refreshments table. Hermione closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall but when she felt a presence before her, she released a groan. She knew who it was without looking.

"Riddle," she greeted without opening her eyes. "Having a pleasant evening?"

"It is tolerable," he replied and she released an unladylike snort before opening her eyes.

"Can I help you with something?" She arched her brow, seeing his brow furrowed slightly as his eyes slowly took in her appearance.

"You clean up well."

"Thank you, it's a shame the same can't be said for you."

His ice-blue eyes flashed with annoyance before it vanished, replaced with amusement.

"My, I had thought your _date_ would improve your mood, I see he has not."

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly and made to retort only he spoke over her.

"Silver?" He arched his brow.

Her eyes fell down to her dress, seeing the pale silver colouring sparkling when the candlelight caught it just right.

"Yes, it is, you know your colours. Well done," she praised, smiling angelically.

Must to her surprise, he rolled her eyes.

"Where is your date?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but he's getting us refreshments. And since you're head boy, I feel it only my duty to warn you, I spotted Dolohov spiking the punch earlier."

"I never took you for a tattletale, Nilrem."

Hermione scoffed. "Please, Riddle, give me more credit. I don't care what he does, however, if he's going to do such a thing, I suggest he be less conspicuous. Had the professors seen I'm sure he would have received detention and such behaviour reflects badly on you as he is affiliated with you."

 _Damn her_ , he thought. She was right. He'd have to have a talk with the bloody Russian bastard.

"And since when do you care for my reputation?"

"Oh, I don't, couldn't give a toss, really. But I thought it only polite I warn you. I'm just glad he waited until _after_ the fourth years and below took their leave. I don't envy your responsibilities; I can only imagine what you'd be dealing with when you'd have half the school population hungover the next day, especially those younger than fourteen."

"It will not be a pleasant experience," he agreed. "So, Macmillan is your date?"

She tipped her head. "Yes?"

He shrugged nonchalantly but his eyes gave him away. Something flashed in them. He wasn't happy.

"But I don't see how my choice in company this evening is any of your business."

"A Hufflepuff? I had higher expectations of you."

She snorted. "I live up to no one's expectations but my own. Gryffindors are loud and brash, Ravenclaws judgmental and tedious, Slytherins conniving and manipulate, Hufflepuffs are kind. Safe. He was a safe option."

"You are a Ravenclaw," he pointed out.

"Yes, I admit I can be judgemental but I am far from tedious," her mouth tugged into a smirk worthy of any Slytherin when she saw his mouth twitch in the corners, fighting off what she thought might've been a smile. "Enough about my date, I suggest you get back to your own."

"She is powdering her nose in the bathroom," he replied, the annoyance in his tone unhidden.

Hermione released a snort. "Oh, she's one of them, is she? How many times has she powdered her nose since your arrival? But, you are mistaken, she is no longer in the bathroom, she is stood beside Malfoy and his date, glaring at me."

Riddle subtly looked over his shoulder and turned back to her., his mouth tugging at the corners once more.

"So she is," he agreed, unfazed.

"Amanda Selwyn? I had higher expectations of you," she fed his words back to him.

Looking over his shoulder -the small heel of her shoes adding a little to her height allowing her to do so- she saw Amanda Selwyn glaring at her murderously.

Obviously someone hadn't told her that the burnt orange of her gown was a hideous colour or that the amount of makeup she was wearing made her look like a clown. Her hair, however, Hermione could admit to being pretty. It was a honey blonde and styled in waves, pinned back in an elaborate updo with crystal entwined in her hair. She was considered one of the prettiest witches in the school with her dark eyes, tanned skin and tall, poised frame. Hermione couldn't remember if she was already set to marry or not, but she supposed it didn't matter. She didn't know much about her, only that she was a sixth year.

"Oh, you do not approve of my choice in date?" His eyes flashed victoriously.

 _Ah, so that's what he's was doing_ , Hermione thought, _attempting to make her jealous._

"It's none of my business," she shrugged lightly. "However, I get the feeling she's jealous that you're over here talking to me and not with her. Why is that? Is she just boring or annoying? I know you, you haven't the patience of a Saint to put up with someone like her for long."

"Someone like her?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, a pampered Pureblood heiress who's never had to work a day in her life and thinks she owns the world, that she's special because mummy and daddy tell her she is. Everything she has was given to her on a silver platter. You and I, on the hand, work hard for our achievements."

 _She wasn't wrong_ , he admitted. She'd more or less hit the nail on the head and he was sure she'd never spoken a single world to the witch. If he were honest with himself, she was a massive pain in his arse and she'd spent most of the evening droning on about finding a suitable husband and not being remotely subtle with the looks she gave him. He'd chosen her for the simple fact she was a Pureblood heiress, someone with power and sway over her father, and she was popular amongst his housemates due to her beauty. Beauty, whilst valuable, couldn't get you everywhere in life and unfortunately for Selwyn, there wasn't much in the upstairs department. Not that it mattered, he supposed. She'd be married off and provide on heir and spare for her spouse and her purpose in life would be done. It was the case for all Pureblood witches.

"And, I feel it only right I warn you. If she _attempts_ to maim me, my response will _not_ be kind and I'll be sure to reciprocate the only way I know how."

"And that is?" He asked curiously.

Her mouth tugged in a smirk. "You have your ways of punishment, I have mine."

His flashed. _Had she_ seen _something?_

"Oh, look, here comes my date now. Perhaps you should return to yours before she breaks a heel when she marches over here. I would _not_ want to be on the receiving end of her whining."

Riddle hummed. "Might we share a dance?"

" _Fortunately_ , Riddle, I am leaving any moment now. I promised Macmillan I would try the punch before I do so. I have tolerated as much of this evening as I am able to."

"Another time, perhaps," he tipped his head.

"Perhaps," she replied.

Seeing that he wasn't going to be the one to move, she pushed away from the wall and brushed past him, realising he'd done it on purpose when his mouth twitched in amusement as she glared up at him.

She didn't glance back at him as she walked over to Macmillan, schooling her features into a friendly smile as he approached, two goblets held in his grasp and a furrowed brow on his face.

"What did Riddle want?" Macmillan asked, handing her one of the goblets.

"Thank you," she replied. "Oh, nothing to worry about."

"Hermione, he can't be trusted, he's dangerous," he insisted.

Hermione barely stopped her eyebrows from shooting up on her forehead. "I assure you, I can handle Riddle. He just wanted to know when I would be returning a book to the library. There is only one copy of the book I checked out and we both require it for an extra credit assignment we are completing for Slughorn."

"I'd forgotten how smart you are."

"I was sorted to Ravenclaw for a reason."

He let the subject drop, falling quiet once more and only when he took a sip from his goblet did Hermione do so too, wincing at the slight burn as the liquid passed down her throat. Of all the things, Dolohov had used fire whiskey. Why?

"What do you think of the punch?"

"In all honesty, I can't taste much else but the fire whiskey."

"Picked up on that, did you?"

"It's hard not to," she nodded.

When she'd finished her spiked punch, Macmillan convinced her to one more dance before insisting he escorted her back to her dorm, Hermione, seeing no harm in one final dance and knowing she'd have to sneak away from Ravenclaw Tower and back to her own dorm once he escorted her there.

One dance turned into two which turned into three and by the end of the third dance, a strange feeling began in her stomach and her head grew a little fuzzy. She accidentally gripped Macmillan's shoulder a little too tight and she stumbled into him, him catching her with both hands on her waist.

"You alright?" He frowned.

"Yes, I'm fine," she shook her head. "Just tired, I think it's best I call it a night get some sleep."

"Okay, let's get you back to Ravenclaw Tower," he agreed.

He led her through the crowd and out through the doors, the strange feeling in Hermione's stomach growing stronger with each step she took and a hot flush tinted her skin pink. When she stepped out into the corridor, she stumbled in her steps, her vision spotty at best and she fanned herself with the hand that wasn't holding onto Macmillan.

"Where are we going? The stairs are the other way," Hermione spoke, her breathing picking up and her heart thumping in her chest.

"Short cut, I use it all the time when I'm running late to class," Macmillan answered.

"How long will it take?" She breathed out. "I really need to get to bed."

"Don't worry, you'll be in bed before you know it. I promise."

She continued to stumble in her steps, the only thing keeping her upright being Macmillan's arm settled around her waist as she was tucked into his side. The longer they walked, the more she noticed the corridor grew darker, barely any light but for single torches lining the walls at intervals. She vaguely recognised it. There were in the dungeons.

"What are we doing in the dungeons?"

"There's a staircase hidden down here, it leads to a classroom not far from the Tower."

Hermione didn't remember seeing a staircase in the dungeons on the Marauder's Map, but maybe it was closed off or destroyed before it'd been created. Maybe the Marauder's hadn't found it and that's why it wasn't on the map.

"Okay," she said breathlessly. After a few more stumbled steps, she paused. "Wait, wait, I need a minute."

She weakly pulled herself away from him and slumped against the wall, sighing when the coolness of the stone helped to soothe her heated skin. She blew a curl out of her face as she continued to fan herself and her eyes fell shut. Her stomach knotted painfully, her heart raced.

"I'm sorry, Michael, I don't know what's wrong with me," her chest heaved.

Feeling a presence, her eyes opened slowly. Michael stood before her, looking down at her innocently.

Something was wrong.

"Michael?"

"I think I might know what's wrong with you. I can help if you let me."

Releasing a quiet grown her knotted stomach cramped tighter, her head fell back against the wall behind her and her eyes grew heavy. A sigh unbidden slipped past her lips when she felt warm lips press against her neck and not being able to focus, to think clearly, she tilted her head, allowing better access. Hands settled against her hips and a body pressed up against hers, pinning against the wall behind her.

"Hmmm?" She hummed, both in question and approval when those lips blazed a trail down to her collar bone and to the other side of her neck. "I don't know what's happening to me."

"Relax," a voice whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

Those same lips nibbled at a spot beneath her ear, pulling a soft moan from the back of her throat and she felt them moving higher, up past her jaw and across her cheek and then they pressed against hers.

Something was wrong. She should stop. Why couldn't she think clearly? Why couldn't she focus?

A tongue forced its way into her mouth and she was helpless to stop it, a moan catching in the back of her throat when it brushed against her own languidly and she was helpless but to respond, her hands moving to grip a fistful of robes and her mouth and tongue moving languidly. Heat crawled up her skin, the pint tint darkening, the feeling her stomach grew more intense and unknowingly, she rubbed her thighs together, searching for friction.

When those lips tore from hers, she released a pleading whine.

"Damn, Nilrem," a voice muttered. "You snog like the devil. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? After all, I would know."

She opened her eyes, half-lidded as they were and they were glassy. She felt his grip on her hips tightened and he took a breath.

"Shite! Don't look at me like that. I was supposed to wait," he shook his head. "It's his own fault, he should've gotten here sooner," he muttered and then his mouth was back on hers and her eyes fluttered closed once more.

There was something desperate about the way he kissed her and Hermione didn't stop him when he parted her legs with his knee, pressing it up against her centre. A moan caught in his mouth, her hands tightened on his robes and she felt liquid heat pool south, her hips rocking in search of friction.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, suddenly lifting her from the ground and her legs were quick to wrap around him as he pressed her into the wall and fused their mouths back together.

"What the hell! Macmillan!"

He groaned and Hermione made a pleading whimper when he pulled his mouth from hers, her eyes opening slightly and seeing someone approaching. He wore robes similar in colour and style to Macmillan's but that was the only similarity. His hair was short and dark, his eyes a stormy grey and his skin golden brown. He was shorter than Macmillan but had more muscle, as was clear in the way his robes fit against him. Maybe he played Quidditch?

"It's not my fault, Carrow," he argued, glaring at him. "You should've been here ages ago and she snogs like the bloody devil. You'd have done the same."

"I couldn't get away from Beatrice, the bitch won't leave me alone."

"Is that any way to talk about your intended?" Macmillan arched a brow.

"I'll kill the cow before I marry her," he scowled, stopping in his steps beside him and his gaze darting to Hermione. "This her then?"

"No, it's Slughorn," Macmillan snarked, receiving a glare. "'Course it's her, you idiot. You've taken one too many bludgers to the head."

"Shut it, Macmillan," he snapped, his eyes darting back to Hermione. "She's pretty," he decided after his eyes gave her the once over.

"Oh, she's so much more than that," Macmillan promised, settling Hermione back on her feet but not pulling back from her, a whine being torn from her throat when he nuzzled at her neck.

"What've you got on her?"

"Word has it, she's a Half-blood. Her dad was some kind of powerful wizard that pissed off Grindelwald, got his muggle wife and himself killed for it, leaving her an orphan. She transferred here this year."

"Not bad," Carrow tipped his head. "She any good?"

"See for yourself," he shrugged, prying Hermione's hands off his robes and stepping back, allowing Carrow to step before her.

"Who are you?" Hermione panted, her mind spinning until she felt dizzy.

"Alec Carrow," he replied, tipping his head to peer down into her glassy eyes. "Shite, if you were looking at him like that, it's no wonder he couldn't wait. Tell me, you ever had a Beater between your thighs?"

"Yes," she replied groggily. "And a Seeker."

"Really?" Both eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "Got a thing for Quidditch players do you?" His mouth twitched.

"It's always the quiet ones," Macmillan piped up, propping his shoulder against the wall and folding his arms over his chest.

"So it would seem," Carrow replied, lowering his head and brushing his nose over her throat. "She smells nice," he muttered.

"I noticed that, too," Macmillan nodded.

"Let's see how she tastes..." He trailed off, his mouth pressing against hers without warning and forcing his tongue to part her lips, brushing against hers.

A noise caught in the back of her throat and her hands bunched in his robes, pulling him further into her. He stumbled under the force, pinning her into the wall behind her and his hands settled on her hips, squeezing tightly.

Why was she doing this? Why couldn't she stop?

Macmillan chuckled from the side.

Carrow regrettably tore his mouth from hers and took a deep breath, his gaze not leaving her half-lidded eyes.

"Well, shit!" He cursed.

"I told you," Macmillan shrugged.

"I think she's my favourite yet. Trust me, Love," he gazed at her, "We are going to have a _lot_ of fun."

"I know," Macmillan agreed, leaning over and nipping at her neck. Hermione sighed and her hand came up to hold him in place whilst Carrow furrowed his brow and then moved to the other side of her neck, giving it the same attention. "We should probably get her to the room before anyone sees us."

"Too late."

They both froze at the sound of the foreign voice, slowly pulling back from Hermione as she weakly tried to stop them, her arms falling down her sides as she slumped back into the wall, struggling to keep her head upright.

Tom Riddle stood in the corridor, his expression passive but his eyes furious and his body tense, his magic swarming the small space heavily, darkly. Behind him stood Nott, Malfoy, Avery, Rosier, Lestrange and Dolohov, their expression grave and worrisome.

"Riddle?" Hermione's mind cleared a little before going foggy once more, his eyes darting to her and then back to the two wizards.

"What are you doing here, Riddle?" Carrow asked bravely, stepping further away from Hermione.

"I think the question is, _what_ are _you_ doing here?"

"Just stumbled across a witch in need of help," he replied.

"Macmillan, Miss. Nilrem was your date, was she not?"

"Yes, I believe she may have had one drink too many and the cold air's made it worse. I was just taking her back to her dorm."

Riddle's eyes darkened and his magic grew thicker in the air, suffocating.

"She had _one_ drink the entire evening, aside from water," Riddle replied knowingly.

Macmillan and Carrow shared a worried glance. The only way he'd have known that was if he'd been purposefully watching her closely. He wouldn't do that for just anyone. Shit! He was _interested_ in this witch, wasn't he? Their eyes gazed at him worriedly.

"What did you give her?"

"Nothing, I suspect the punch was spiked. It is not my fault she can't handle her alcohol."

Riddle took a step forward, his eyes filled with fury but he paused when Malfoy set a hand on his shoulder, muttering something to him.

"We witnessed what you were doing to her. If she is inebriated, why were you taking advantage of her?" Malfoy asked, his silver eyes darting between them and Riddle.

A gasp sounded from Hermione and all eyes turned to her when she struggled to stay upright, falling to the floor with a groan, barely catching herself on her hands as her head bowed.

"Malfoy, you're in charge. You know what to do. Find out what you can, do not let them leave until I arrive and do not let Dolohov kill them," Riddle instructed.

"Yes, My Lord," Malfoy tipped his head, both him and Rosier stepping forward.

Sensing the danger, Macmillan and Carrow pulled their wands but were disarmed before they had the chance to defend themselves or cast a curse, Silencing Charms quickly following suit, preventing them from making any noise when they were restrained and led forward as they struggled to break free. Riddle watched them leave down the corridor before turning his eyes to Hermione.

"Riddle? I don't know what's wrong," Hermione panted, screwing her eyes shut tightly and groaning, her body sinking back into the wall behind her.

With a furrowed brow, he approached and crouched down before her, his hand coming up to cup her chin and tilting it back so he could look into her half-lidded eyes.

"I believe you were slipped something," he explained calmly.

"What? But Macmillan's a Hufflepuff!"

"He is," he nodded, unsure whether to be furious or impressed that he'd fooled them _both_.

His eyes slowly travelled her form, taking in the symptoms. Shortness of breath, sweating, flushed skin, glassy eyes.

It wasn't a Love Potion, if it had been, she would've put up a fight when Carrow and Macmillan were escorted away from her, her eyes wouldn't be so glassy, either.

That left one option. A Lust Potion, but something seemed off. She wasn't as, for lack of a better term, aggressive, with fulfilling the needs the potion instilled. In fact, she seemed to be the opposite, groggy and unfocused. It had been altered, he realised. This was planned. No one would suspect a shy Hufflepuff of being capable of such a thing, and from what he knew of Carrow, he was a bastard with the brains to alter a potion without it exploding in his face. It was a joint effort. He was certain this wasn't the first time they'd done it, only this time, they'd been caught.

Had he not been purposely watching her, he wouldn't have seen her ingest only one goblet of the whiskey-spiked punch, he wouldn't have seen her stumble in her steps and looking a little _off_ , and he wouldn't have thought to follow her as she was escorted out of the hall. They would have been successful in their plans. The altered Lust Potion made it so the witch would neither put up a fight, but also that she physically couldn't. Rage boiled within him. She was his and they'd attempted to harm her!

A low groan fell passed her lips and her eyes shut, an arm winding around her stomach as her head fell back against the wall.

"I...I can't think..." She panted. " _Fuck_! It's unbearable."

His eyebrow rose at the expletive but he otherwise didn't comment. His eyes darted down the deserted, dark corridor. His decision made, he reached for her, his hand lifting her arm and hooking it over his shoulder, as he wound the other around her waist, lifting her from the ground and to her feet.

"Riddle! Don't do that," she muttered weakly.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't touch me. It's uncomfortable, my stomach's in knots, it flares up with skin to skin contact."

His eyes trailed her glassy, half-lidded eyes and her tilted head as it rested against his shoulder. It was no wonder as to why Carrow and Macmillan had gotten distracted. With her looking the way she did now, there was irresistible about her and for the first time, he found it hard to not picture her in such a manner.

"Where are we going?" She muttered, stumbling in her steps not only due to the influence of the potion, but his much larger height.

Releasing a sigh, Riddle halted in his steps and without warning he swept her off her feet and into his arms, continuing down the corridor at a much faster pace.

"Put me down," she protested weakly.

He snorted. "I am helping you, Nilrem."

"That'll be the day," she scoffed.

"So, have you _seen_ anything lately?" He asked conversationally.

"Yes, in the very near future I will break your nose."

"Charming, and that's the thanks I get for stepping in when you're vulnerable and being taken advantage of."

"I never asked you to! Put me down, I can get to my dorm just fine."

Her head partially lolled back and partially tilted to rest against his shoulder. "No, you can't," he rolled his eyes. Had ever met a more stubborn witch?

When they reached the Slytherin common room, he muttered the password and the portrait swung open, allowing them entrance. Hermione barely glanced around, seeing the dark wood furnishings, stone floor and walls, large fireplace and metal chandeliers above. It was dark, gloomy and silent, there being no one present.

She briefly noted Riddle ascending a staircase, passing seven doors before stopping at a dead end, an eighth and final door being on the left wall. He muttered something beneath his breath and the door swung open, Riddle stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

This room was similar in size and decor to her own, only silver and green replaced the chocolate brown and cream. The furnishings were dark to match that of those in the common room, a desk and chair sat by a window, the wardrobe and chest of drawers being nearby. The poster bed was large with the thick green curtains tied back to the posts and a Hogwarts' trunk by the foot of the bed. A bedside table was positioned on the right and a bookcase sat by the door with a second door being on the opposite side of the room, a bathroom, she supposed. This was Riddle's dorm. Being head boy had its perks, it would seem. But a flicker of pride passed through her before it was gone. She had a kitchenette _and_ common area, he didn't.

Hermione groaned when she was placed upon the bed, her back sinking into the soft mattress. She couldn't find it in herself to think clearly, even struggling to talk, unintelligible mutters escaping her lips.

The mattress dipped beside her and she did her best to pry her eyes open, only being successful with one. Riddle sat beside her, a furrowed brow in place and a vial held in his hand.

"Drink this," he instructed, raising it to her lips and arching an eyebrow when she didn't open her mouth. "Don't be so bloody stubborn, this is for your own good. The only way to escape the effects of the potion is to fulfil the purpose or wait it out, which, as you've already mentioned, is unbearable. I have no ill intentions towards you, it is only a Sleeping Draught, you will wake in the morning."

Hermione eyed him warily.

"For Merlin's sake," he sighed. "Open up."

"I don't trust you," she muttered.

"Right now, I'm the only one that is in the position to help you."

"How do I know you won't finish what they started?"

"You have my word. I will not harm you."

Against her better judgement, not that she had much of it due to the influence of the Lust Potion, Hermione parted her lips, swallowing the potion as Riddle slowly tipped it into her mouth.

"We will talk in the morning," were the last words she heard before her eyes closed, her breathing evened out and she could no longer feel the knotting in her stomach.

~000~000~0000~

Brushing his hand through his hair, Tom set the empty vial on the bedside table and then stood from the bed, staring down at the witch as she laid atop the covers. She didn't look all that comfortable and he rolled his eyes to himself. Since when did he care?

Releasing a grumbled breath, he moved to the foot of the bed and made quick work of removing her heeled shoes, setting them on the ground before he shifted the covers out from beneath her, laying them over her to protect her from the chill in the room. It was something he was used to, it always being cold in the dungeons and he'd had seven years to adapt to it.

His eyes scanned her form, the silver of her dress peeking out beneath the covers, glittering slightly in the lit torches that lined the walls of his dorm. He considered transfiguring it into something more suitable for nightwear but quickly discarded the thought. He didn't how she'd react in the morning or what she'd remember. It was best to not give her any reason to suspect he'd taken advantage of her or that he'd snuck a peek whilst she was sleeping.

Seeing her hair being a riotous mass of curls pinned in place, he can't have imagined that being comfortable for her and he carefully slipped his hands into her curls, surprised by the softness as they tangled about his fingers as he set to work removing the pins. When he'd finished, there was more than he could count piled on his bedside table and her hair surrounded in a halo of wildness. He had not expected her hair to be so long, being nearly twice the length of what he'd seen the other witches in the castle sporting. It was odd but it suited her, framing her face and drawing attention to the ivory of her skin. Now he understood whilst she always wore it up, keeping it back from her face, particularly in potions. Before he stepped back, he reached for her glasses and removed them, setting them off to the side.

He tilted his head. She looked far different without them. Not as weak or unthreatening, with them she was easy to overlook but now, her natural beauty was undeniable. It was as if they acted as a mask. He couldn't decide whether he preferred her with or without them.

Sighing to himself, he conjured a green leather armchair and took a seat by the side of the bed, leaning back, settling his right ankle against his left knee and steepling his fingers, a thoughtful expression pulled at his face as he watched her closely.

He was finding it difficult to be mad at her. She'd found herself in a dangerous situation and all without a hint of suspicion, but then, he hadn't suspected anything either. With Carrow it hadn't been all that surprising; Slytherins were known for being conniving and manipulative, but a damn Hufflepuff? Hermione's had words had been, _he's a Hufflepuff, kind. The safe option_. She couldn't have been more wrong. Tom thought he was a master of disguise but Macmillan had very nearly overtaken him. Tom was good at reading people, _very_ good, at he'd had no idea the stuttering, shy pathetic excuse of a wizard was really a mastermind. Had he discovered this information sooner and had Macmillan not target _her_ , of all people, Tom would've considered bringing Macmillan into the ranks, Hufflepuff or not. But that just went to prove the Sorting Hat was not always correct and could be fooled, too.

Seeing her so unlike herself, so vulnerable when she was exactly the opposite, it set off a chain reaction and one he hadn't expected; surprise, worry, jealousy, murderous fury. Two of which, he'd never before felt and hated the experience. He was so blinded by his worry and anger that he hadn't considered it was a bad idea to release his magic and fury in plain view of any who may happen upon them. Malfoy had been the voice of reason, but he had every intention of _speaking_ to Carrow and Macmillan himself as soon as he was able to.

Why had they targeted her? Why _her_? He couldn't understand it. He had his own reasons for wanting her close by; he knew who she truly was and not who she appeared to be for the public. No one else did, so what motivated them to select her. Was it a crime of opportunity, possibly?

A firm knock sounded on the door and Riddle stood from his seat and approached, opening it to reveal Malfoy. He no longer wore his robes, his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shaggy hair looked a little messier than usual.

"Yes, Malfoy?" He questioned, standing in his doorway and not allowing Malfoy to see into his dorm or the witch that was currently sleeping in his bed.

That was something he was going to have to wrap his mind around. A witch _sleeping_ in _his_ bed.

"My Lord," he tipped his head. "They have been quite forthcoming. It seems it is something Carrow and Macmillan have done since Carrow's fourth and Macmillan's fifth year. Macmillan selects a witch and gets her to lower her guard before he spikes her refreshment with a Lust Potion. Under the pretence of escorting her to her dorm using a shortcut, he takes her to an abandoned classroom where Carrow is waiting. I will not repeat what was said next," Malfoy explained, a grim expression on his face. "To prevent the witch from telling, they alter her memories."

Riddle's expression was furious, his ice-blue eyes blazing. Malfoy took the smallest step back.

"How many?" Riddle gritted his teeth.

"Before I took my leave, they admitted to ten and I don't doubt there are more."

"What were their intentions with Nilrem?"

Malfoy hesitated and rightly so, he'd never seen Riddle so furious.

"Malfoy," his tone lowered darkly.

"They... They were rather vulgar, My Lord, and I would rather not repeat it in the presence of a woman, sleeping or not."

Riddle's hand clenched around his wand tightly. Trust Malfoy to be the 'some things should not be repeated before a witch' type of wizard. Riddle knew he'd bedded the majority of the witches old enough to be considered of age in the castle, well, disregarding the Gryffindors, of course.

Riddle took a breath. It did nothing to calm him. "Return to the others, I will send word when I need you."

"My Lord," Malfoy tipped his head before turning and leaving down the stairs.

Riddle closed the door and retook a seat in the armchair by the bed, his expression dark and angry but his eyes softening slightly when the witch in his bed shifted in her sleep, turning on her side to face him.

His eyes slowly trailed her face. There was a scar on her right temple, something he'd never noticed before. He wondered the cause behind it. Whilst she looked calm, he knew her to be far from peaceful, seeing the way her hand twitched or she shifted to get more comfortable. He'd given her a mild Sleeping Draught, wanting to be cautious given her previous groggy state, not wanting the potion to react badly to the traces of it mixed in with the Lust Potion. It would do him no good to accidentally harm or kill the witch he wanted, _needed_ , by his side.

Grumbling beneath his breath, he scrubbed his hands over his and stood from the chair, moving into his bathroom. Taking a moment to brush his teeth and change out of his robes, he settled on his nightwear being a pair of drawstring pyjamas before moving over to the bed. He eyed the witch on the other side cautiously before rolling his eyes to himself.

Why shouldn't he sleep in his own bed just because she was there? As it was, she was sleeping on the right, thankfully, as he preferred the left side of the bed. Pulling the covers back and climbing into bed, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to calm his thoughts of the evening's happenings and the witch sleeping beside him. He had not expected his evening to turn out the way it had. But he couldn't complain, he'd come to the aid of Nilrem and she would see that she needed him and that she needed his protection.

~000~000~000~

Hermione woke to a pounding headache and unsettled stomach.

Slowly, she peeled her eyes open, blinking until her vision focused, staring up at the ceiling. The first thing she noticed was the bedsheets. They weren't silk, rather, they appeared to be Egyptian cotton. A frown pulled at her brow and she lifted her head, taking in her surroundings and seeing that she most definitively wasn't in her own dorm.

"I had thought you were going to sleep the day away. I never took you as the lazy type."

Hermione startled at the voice, her head whipping around until she saw Riddle sat in a green leather armchair, lounging comfortably with a book held in his grasp, his eyes locked on hers over the top of the pages. He wore a dark green woollen jumper, black trousers and a white shirt, the collars folded over the jumper's neckline. How could someone look so casual but royal at the same time? It was infuriating.

"Riddle?" She frowned in confusion. "Is this your dorm?" She asked slowly.

"It is," his mouth tugged into a smile.

"So I've just woken in _your_ bed."

"You have," he confirmed.

Her frown deepened and she pushed herself into a sitting position, propping her back against the headboard but making no move to climb from the bed.

"What happened? How did I get here? _Why_ am I here?"

"Which would you like me to answer first?"

"How?" She decided.

"Well," he snapped his book shut and slotted it beside his thigh and the armrest, clasping his now free hands together. "I brought you here, obviously."

"Why? Where did you sleep?" She questioned, the look on her face saying she already knew the answer.

He arched an eyebrow. "Where do you think? Don't look at me like that, Nilrem. It is _my_ bed, not yours. Be thankful I did not drop you on the floor."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why am I here and not my own dorm?"

"You do not remember?"

"Everything's a little fuzzy, if I'm honest," she admitted.

"To summarise, Macmillan with the aid of Alec Carrow, spiked your punch with a Lust Potion infused with Sleeping Draught properties, making you groggy and physically unable to defend yourself. I found you in the corridor of the dungeons, being pawed at and had I not arrived when I did, I imagine the evening would have gone vastly different."

He watched her closely, she'd fallen quiet, taking a moment to process what he'd told her and he allowed that.

"They were going to rape me?" She said quietly but she didn't sound broken or hurt, if anything, she seemed calm. That was not the reaction he'd been expecting.

"Yes,"

"Why me?"

"I do not know but I have every intention of finding out," he replied, his voice darkening and his magic pouring from him.

Hermione turned her eyes to him. "Macmillan? Really?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"But he's a damn _Hufflepuff_!" She fumed.

There was the anger he'd been expecting, her eyes filling with fire and her magic pouring from her, brushing against him like a breeze. His eyes fluttered for a brief moment before opening again, seeing her furious expression.

"He is," he agreed.

Her eyes snapped to him. "You brought me here?"

"I did," he nodded.

"Why not take me to Ravenclaw Tower?"

"We would have been seen and at the time we were in the dungeons. You were safer here."

"With you?" She arched her brow.

"You will always be safe with me, which is something you will learn and something you will come to accept."

"I don't think so," she scoffed. "Macmillan told me not to trust you, that you're dangerous and coming from him, that isn't exactly a glowing review, now, is it?" Her eyes fell downcast, trailing her dress covered form searchingly.

"I did not touch you in any way deemed inappropriate," he commented.

Her eyes lifted to his distrustfully. "Oh, you've a vulnerable witch in your bed and you did not take advantage?"

His eyes flashed. "I understand you do not have a high opinion of me..."

"For good reason," she interrupted.

"And I admit that I am a lot of things, but I am not one to sexually take advantage of a vulnerable witch. I am not a rapist or a pervert. I like my women willing and in a sane state of mind."

Her eyes searched his expression, and she believed him to be telling the truth. During the war, where he'd been concerned there was always torture and murder but she'd never heard tale of rape or sexual assault. His list of redeeming qualities just went from zero to one. He is not a rapist. That settled something in her mind, she wasn't sure what, but she felt it would make her life a little easier in knowing this about him. He had his limits.

"And _when_ I have you, you will be fully aware of what is happening and you will enjoy and remember every minute of it."

She scoffed. "I don't think so, Riddle. That is _not_ going to happen. Ever! I require more than a two-pump chump."

Much to her annoyance, rather than her words angering or upsetting him, it drew a laugh from him, the sound deep and rich.

"If that's the case, you best stay away from Avery."

Hermione visibly gawked at him. Did he just make a joke?

"But I assure you, you won't want to leave me when I'm through with you."

"Have some humility," she snapped.

"Why?" He smirked. "I _know_ I'm good looking, I'm intelligent, I'm powerful, I'm charming. I can have any witch I want but I chose you."

"Choose someone else!"

"No one would dare fight back as you do."

"That's because I'm not afraid of you. I know what you're capable of and I know I can handle you."

"I do so love our chats, Nilrem."

"Shove off," she scowled, folding her arms over her chest and staring down at the floor, ignoring his infuriating smirk.

"That is not very polite. You owe me."

"Excuse me?" She spluttered.

"I _protected_ you when you were vulnerable. Now I want something in return. I want repaying."

"How chivalrous," Hermione deadpanned. "Most would accept a 'thank you' and be on their way, but not you," she rolled her eyes. "Very well, Riddle. You prevented me from throwing myself into a highly embarrassing and infuriating situation, of which, I'll be sure to get my vengeance."

"It is already being taken care of," he waved her off, leaning back in his chair.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, punishment is currently being given," he replied, his face passive.

She frowned before realisation smacked her in the face. _Oh, bloody hell!_

"The gesture, whilst appreciated, is _not_ needed or wanted. I am capable of handling my own affairs, Riddle."

"There is no need for you to."

"And why the hell are you doing this? It was _me_ that was wronged. Not you. I should be allowed to decide the next course of action, not you."

"Is it not obvious?" He arched an eyebrow.

"No! It bloody well isn't."

His ice-blue eyes locked with hers, his gaze serious. "You are mine to protect. When you are wronged, I am wronged, too. It is a slight against me and I cannot tolerate such behaviour."

"Like hell I am and like hell you are! I was almost _raped_! You weren't the one fed a Lust Potion, and had Dolohov not spiked the bloody punch, I would've both smelled and tasted it, but the whiskey masked both. And he was a bloody Hufflepuff, too! How many rapist Hufflepuffs do you know? I don't know who I'm angrier at, him for what he did or me for not seeing him for who he truly is. He's a _Hufflepuff_!"

"If you would care to enact retribution after, that is your decision. However, they will not remember."

"Oh, what if they do this again? I doubt this is the first time they've gotten away with this."

"I don't believe it is," he agreed, "But, I have my ways."

"As do I,"

"Stop arguing with me, we are simply going around in circles. We were discussing repayment."

"Oh, so I'm yours to protect but that protection comes with a price."

"Naturally,"

"Prat," she muttered under her breath.

"Occasionally," he tipped his head.

Hermione almost choked on her own breath, her eyes widening. Did he just agree that he was an arsehole? What was the world coming to?

Taking a breath and gritting her teeth, Hermione said, "What do you want from me, Riddle, in order to make us even?"

He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped. "I want to know your biggest secret."

"Excuse me?"

"You know exactly what I said."

Hermione paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. Well, she could do this.

Throwing the covers off herself, she shuffled to the edge of the bed and planted her bare feet on the cool stone floor, leaning forward until they were at eye level with barely any space between them.

"My biggest secret, Riddle..." She whispered, seeing his eyes dart down to her mouth when her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

She heard the slightest hitch in his breath and leaned forward a little more, their noses almost touching. The room was silent and tense, Hermione feeling his magic pouring from him and surrounding her like a thick, heavy blanket.

"I don't need glasses."

She sat back, folding her arms over her chest and a smirk forming on her mouth when Riddle blinked slowly, once, twice, before leaning back into his chair and scowling at her. A laugh left her.

"Weren't expecting that, were you?" She asked lightly. "You've done it, Riddle. You've found out my _deepest_ , _darkest_ secret, now you can leave me be. I don't need glasses. I only wear them because people perceive me as being weak, nonthreatening and that is one hell of an advantage to have. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm starving and would really like to wash off the reminder of the evening from hell."

She stood from the bed, grabbed her glasses from the bedside table and slipped them on –overdramatically winking at Riddle as he watched her- picked up her wand and collected her shoes from the ground, letting them dangle from her fingers by the straps. She breezed past him, heading for the door but she paused with her hand on the handle.

"If you leave now, those in the common room will see and assume the worst. Rumours will spread."

"Oh, you'd be a gentleman and tell them otherwise?"

"On the contrary, I believe it will beneficial to me," he replied.

"Disillusionment Charm, Riddle. Read up on it!" She snapped, stepping out of his dorm and slamming the door shut behind her, his laughter being heard behind the door.

Huffing, she silently fumed until she noticed Malfoy and Nott stood on the staircase, as if they were guarding Riddle's dorm. They probably were.

"What!" She snapped moodily. They looked to each other then back to her, their expressions passive but mouths twitching. "Oh shove off before I shove you down the stairs!"

She raised her wand and muttered the Disillusionment Charm, blending into her surroundings and descending the stairs barefooted, glaring over her shoulder when she heard their snorts.

"They're perfect for one another," Nott muttered. "Ow!" He yelped, rubbing at his left arse-cheek, Malfoy sniggering.

"Is there any reason you're making so much noise?" Riddle drawled, standing in the now open doorway of his dorm.

"The witch hexed me!" Nott protested.

Riddle looked to a sniggering Malfoy and then as if knowing where she was despite her magical camouflage, he looked straight at her, his eyebrow cocking and his mouth twitching.

"You hexed him?" He questioned.

She aimed her wand over her shoulder.

"Ow!" Malfoy suddenly cried out, also rubbing at his left arse-cheek, his sniggers dying into winces.

"Malfoy too," she confirmed. "They were being prats."

She pointed her wand once more, directing a hex at Riddle but he deflected it was a lazy flick of his wand.

"I am not so vulnerable," he replied amused.

"We'll see, battle lines have been drawn, Riddle."

"I look forward to it," he tipped his head, a smile on his lips and his ice-blue eyes flashed.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

You guys are the best!

So glad you liked the evil Hufflepuff twist.

So, I know I promised Slughorn's party in this chapter, but again, there's too much content, far more than I'd intended so it's been shifted back until next chapter. Hopefully, you'll be happy with the content of this one though. Also, it's like 5 am here, I stayed up all night to get this finished and I'm exhausted! Thank God I'm not at work tomorrow.

We have some darkish Hermione!

 **Quick Note**

I've just found out I've been nominated for my first _ever_ award by/for Hermione's Haven, and I'm super excited to be in the final. If you wanna help a girl out and get her, her first award, you have to vote! Voting closes EST 9pm on 27th Feb.

h*ttp*s:*/forms*.*gle/RnQ*Hth7mCgQn1*1eb7

The category is for the best crossover.

Nominated work: Wolfblood, my HP x Teen Wolf crossover with a Hermione/Derek Hale pairing.

 **Q &A**

JRock & Meldz – Exactly, we have to something that tips the balance of their relationship and Hermione can't always be on top form. She's not perfect and is bound to make a mistake eventually, like misjudging someone.

Ash - Am I fully forgiven _now_? I'm sorry to hear that, I was my grandfather that I lost recently, too, and my great uncle.

Dramione1028 – Hermione is still Hermione, she's stubborn and feisty. For her to suddenly give in might be suspicious and her fighting back is why Tom wants her so much. People want what they can't have, the saying goes. But have faith in me, I shan't lead you astray...

Renowned-warrior - Thank you, prepare for another huge length chapter.

* * *

Page count: 22

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Sunday 29th October 1944**

She paced back and forth the length of her common area, the fireplace roaring with flames and providing heat in the cold afternoon. Athena perched on the back of the couch, her head tilted as she watched Hermione's movements.

When Hermione had returned to her rooms, the first thing she'd done was strip from her clothing and stand in the shower, scrubbing her skin until it was red raw and she'd made herself bleed. When her fingers were so pruned they were sore, she stepped out from the water, cast a Drying Charm and dug through her clothing, dressing in an old Quidditch jersey of Harry's and an old pair of pyjama bottoms that had belonged to Ron, rolling the waistband and legs up several times as they were too big for her.

Despite all the dangerous situations they found themselves in, she'd always felt safe when they were nearby and that was a feeling she really needed. She'd tried to cry but found she couldn't. She tried to feel objectified and used, but couldn't do that either. All she felt was anger. How could they do that to her? No one deserved such treatment but what had she actually done for such an action to be warranted? Why had they targeted her? Why had they targeted the others?

Hermione was a strong believer of justice and when justice wasn't served, she took it upon herself to rectify that. Her magic swarmed her body, little lightning bolts sparking from her hair and falling to the ground, her skin charged with electricity, the room growing thick and heavy as her magic broke free.

She was furious!

A squawk pulled her attention and her eyes snapped to Athena, seeing her eyeing her warily, flapping her wings as though she weren't sure if she should stay or take off. Hermione fisted her hands tightly and took a breath before collapsing onto the couch, Athena moving closer and nuzzling her head against Hermione's cheek. Hermione released a tired sigh and brought her hand up, rubbing her fingers against the soft feathers at Athena's throat.

"I'm sorry," Hermione muttered, titling her head and resting it against the back of the couch and Athena made herself comfortable, perching in such a way she was half-sprawled across the top of Hermione's head.

Silently and with a wave of her hand, Hermione summoned a blanket and cocooned herself in it, so tight she could barely move. Her eyes darted from staring at the flames in the fireplace and down to the soft wool covering her, seeing the odd pattern of orange, green and plum twined together. In all honesty, it was hideous but that didn't matter to her. It represented something of great importance, something that she'd always assumed she'd have. Harry and Ron.

Plum was her favourite colour, orange was Ron's and despite never admitting it out loud, Harry's had always been green. During the war and the time of their being fugitives, when Harry and Ron were at each other's throats and she didn't have the energy to play the mediator (quickly learning to stay out of it as otherwise, they'd turn their ire on her) she'd hideaway in her bunk and turn her attention to knitting. She was far from a professional despite all the practice she'd gotten when knitting hats and scarves during her free-the-house-elves reign of terror when she was fifteen, as seen by some of the holes in the blanket being bigger than others or the way she'd messed up and knotted the wool once or twice. During the time, it'd served as a distraction, something to keep her hands busy and her mind away from the horrors that were happening outside of the tent.

She'd charmed the wool to those three colours specifically, entwining them in such a way the colours both clashed and slotted together in a hideous mess but the longer one stared, the more the colours seemed to complement each other. Three things that shouldn't have worked but did, something she could relate to.

She was often considered to be too smart to be friends with Harry and Ron, she was the calm and the brains. The glue that held them together. Harry was their leader, the rash and jump-head-first-into-danger type. Ron was hot-headed, the emotional one and the muscle. Separately they were useless, lost. Together they were the famed Golden Trio, a band of friends who stuck together through thick and thin. They would've followed each other anywhere and they did, straight to war, straight to death.

Looking at the blanket, Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. Had she ever felt truly safe since her arrival in the past? No, without Harry and Ron, she didn't suppose she ever would. She needed them as much as they needed her, but unless she found a way to complete her mission to prevent Riddle from becoming Voldemort, there would never be a Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, not her Harry and Ron anyway. She hadn't agreed to take the mission because it was the right thing to do, because it would save countless lives, she'd done it solely for Harry and Ron. The two most important people in her life.

"Hermione?"

She startled, her wand appearing in her hand and aiming towards the voice before she released a slow breath and allowed the wand to drop onto the couch beside her. She shifted from beneath Athena and rose from the couch, quickly closing the distance between her and her father, _feeling_ his concern both in his magic and body when she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest, sniffling.

"What happened?" He questioned softly. "I felt your emotional distress."

"You don't know? You didn't see?" She replied quietly, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don't watch you _all_ the time, Little Phoenix. I spent all of the previous evening watching over Godric and Salazar. They had a God-awful spat which resulted in a duel, in the afterlife we do not tire, as far as I'm aware, they are _still_ duelling now." Hermione released a sniffle-laugh at the disapproval in his tone. "I suppose they were due a disagreement of this magnitude, they have not had one for many years. But it seems the one time my attention is elsewhere, is the time you need me the most."

"It's not your fault. It's mine," she whispered.

"What happened? I am quite capable of seeing for myself but I would much rather hear it from you."

Hermione stiffened in his arms.

"You are safe with me."

"I know," she sniffled. He had the same effect on her as Harry and Ron. She felt safe in his presence; he was the one person she knew would _never_ harm her. Whilst she felt safe with Harry and Ron, they'd both hurt her in the past. Ron with his words and Harry his ignorance. But her father would never harm her and whilst she wanted his calming presence, she had to do this by herself. "Last night at the Halloween Ball, I was slipped a Lust Potion." She both felt his arms tighten around her and his magical aura grow thick and heavy. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, Riddle only wished he could be as powerful as her father. "Alec Carrow, Slytherin, and my escort for the ball, Michael Macmillan, Hufflepuff. I accepted his invitation because I thought he was _safe_. I was wrong. He fooled me _and_ Riddle, quite the feat. I don't remember much but Riddle explained that he'd found me being taken advantage of in the dungeons, thankfully he arrived before they took me elsewhere and things could've gotten worse. He took me to his dorm room and I woke in his bed. He told me he protected me and that Macmillan and Carrow are being taken care of, I knew what he truly meant. We had a little bit of spat about who should be the one to dole out the punishment. I'm not the first victim but I _will_ be the last and I was the only one they were caught with."

"You intend to seek vengeance," he stated knowingly, something in his voice being darker than usual. She didn't answer and she didn't lift her face, not wanting to see his reaction. "There is no good or dark magic," he reminded her.

"The Unforgivables," she muttered.

He tipped his head slightly but she didn't see. "It is well within your rights to seek vengeance. Wizarding laws differ from that of the ones in the Muggle World, especially those from my time and the time of the Founders. You do not know Helga the way I do, and whilst she is kind, that makes it all the more frightening when she is angry. If she were here now, I know she would demand that you seek justice regardless of one of them being a member of her beloved House. I believe that fact will anger her all the more, that someone of her House and morals wished to harm _my_ daughter, as well as harmed others. I never told you this but you have Godparents."

"I do? Who?" She asked quietly.

"The Founders."

"I'm sorry," she spluttered, finally pulling her face from his chest and looking up at him.

"Helga and Rowena are your Godmothers, Salazar and Godric are your Godfathers. They watched you grow just as I did, they are very much invested in your safety and your future. When Dumbledore arrived in our circle, Helga unleashed a tirade I have never before heard from her. It was so frightening, I remember Salazar cowering behind Godric," he said, his mouth twitching and Hermione sniggered. "Do you want to seek justice?"

"Yes," Hermione said quietly. "I'm struggling with what it right and what is wrong. It's the right thing to do to tell someone, to stop this from happening again. They'll likely be excluded from Hogwarts, if I'm believed, that is. They are both Purebloods, I'm a Half-blood, their lawyers will tear me apart regardless of who is telling the truth and knowing this, I know it will be easier to punish them myself. But there is a difference between what is right and what is easy."

"There is," he nodded in agreement. "Do you want my opinion?"

"Yes, please,"

"Sometimes what is right, isn't always what is right. In this case, I say choose what is easy."

Hermione's gaze lowered.

"I'm not upset or broken and I don't feel violated. I'm _angry_. Not just for me but the other witches they've done this to. Should I punish them I am worried that I will _kill_ them."

"You are capable of many things, Little Phoenix, but murder is not one."

"I've killed before," she argued.

"Yes, in battle. Not in cold blood. Trust your instincts and trust your magic, it will not lead you astray. It is your guide. As for your method of punishment, I think it about time I taught something new. Come, let's sit by the fire."

Hermione didn't argue when he stepped back from her, took her hand in his and moved over to the fireplace, taking a seat on the ground in front of the hot flames. Hermione took a set opposite, folding her legs beneath her and observing her father as he interacted with Athena who'd flown over and perched on his shoulder.

"Now, this particular spell, I learned from Morgana."

~000~000~000~

Hermione paced back and forth three times with only one thought in mind before a large door appeared before her. She dug her hand into her robe pocket, grasping her wand in its depths and feeling a sense of comfort wash over her. Taking a steady breath and squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and reached out to grasp the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open. She slid inside before shutting the door behind her, it quickly disappearing from view with no evident point of exit but her attention was elsewhere.

She stood in Riddle's Chamber of Secrets-esque room, fitted with the 'table for his knights' and a throne. Riddle perched on it, lounging in a way that was both regal but casual, whilst he watched his merry band of henchmen. Avery, Nott, Rosier, Lestrange, Malfoy and Dolohov stood in the centre of the room in a circle formation with gaps evenly spaced between them. All of them wore their clothing from the ball the night before but in various forms dress, all of them having lost their robes, some having loosened the buttons on their shirts, some having rolled up their sleeves and some having untucked their shirts. They each held their wands tightly, their attention held by the two crumpled forms in the centre of their circle, ear-shattering cries and screams being torn from their throats as their bodies writhed and twisted unnaturally on the ground, being soaked in sweat and urine. From what she could see, there were no visible injuries. That was good; there was no proof of what had happened and there would be no evidence left behind through open wounds and other injuries.

Hermione, having suffered under the same curse, found herself flinching and a small amount of pity surfaced before she forced it down, reminding herself they'd had every intention of raping her had they not been stopped. Even Riddle, the destroyed of her world had not been a rapist.

How long had they been suffering? Giving the wizards still being in their dress clothes and the fact they looked as though they hadn't slept, she'd say all night _and_ all day. Dinner had not long been served but Hermione hadn't been able to stomach the thought of food despite not having anything to eat since the night before at the ball.

Malfoy was the first to notice her presence, not actively parting in the session but watching and his eyes turned to her, widening in alarm and horror before they darted to Riddle.

"My Lord?" He addressed, pulling Riddle's attention.

Riddle's expression didn't falter. It was a wonder how something could look so bored but entertained at the same time. Riddle didn't have that problem.

The screams from Carrow and Macmillan died down into sobs, the rest of his junior Death Eaters turning their eyes to her, their expressions matching Malfoy's. Riddle didn't look all that concerned about her presence or that she was witnessing their casting of highly illegal magics.

"Nilrem? What are you doing here?" Riddle arched an eyebrow.

"Don't act dense, we both know you're not despite appearances."

"You flatter me," he deadpanned after her backhanded compliment.

"Surely, you expected my arrival after what we discussed."

"I may have," he admitted, "And how did you know to come _here_?"

"Please, I'm not an idiot," she scoffed. "This is the only place in the entire castle where you are guaranteed to not be caught approving the use of a highly illegal form of magic, and with good reason. There are very few who know of this room's existence, and, I may have _seen_ you come here," she added innocently.

His mouth twitched at her apparent confirmation of her 'gift' and he an arched eyebrow but commented no further on the matter. Hermione saw the six wizards' gazes dart between them, Hermione wondering if Riddle had explained her _powers_ to them and her worth or if he deigned to keep that tidbit of information to himself.

"And what is it you plan to do, now that you're here?"

"I thought that was obvious," she replied, striding forward with purpose, easily slipping through the gap between Avery and Rosier and coming to a stop at the feet of Carrow and Macmillan.

She tutted disapprovingly.

"Care to share your thoughts, Nilrem?" Riddle voiced.

"I had thought someone of your intelligence would know better. You must take exceptionally good care of your toys."

"Oh?" His voice hinted at intrigue and she turned towards him when he stood from his throne and descended the steps, slipping his hands casually into his trouser pockets and halting in-between Malfoy and Lestrange, the latter shifting slightly on his feet.

"Yes, if you wish to not get caught, then I suggest you avoid torturing someone to insanity. Hydration is key, in such cases," she scolded, turning to face forward and stepping in-between the two crumpled, sobbing messes on the ground.

She knelt between them, wrinkling her nose at the smell of sweat and urine and her eyes doing a quick search. From her place by the non-existent door, she hadn't seen the dried blood coating their mouths and chins. They'd bitten their tongues at some point and they both looked to have broken noses, too. Easy fixes.

"Honestly," she t'sked. "You must learn some manners. Have you thought of the impacts the smell might have on others?" She said, twisting to look over her shoulder, seeing Riddle's pleased smile and his flashing eyes, and the dumbfounded expressions of his followers.

Turning her attention back to her would-be rapists, she pulled her wand and was quick to mutter a _Scourgify_ , removing the dried blood from their skin and the smell of sweat and urine. One she was happy the smell had vanished, she conjured a glass and filled it with water, moving closer to Carrow.

She slipped her hand behind the back of his neck and lifted it before bringing the glass of water to his lips, slowly allowing it to trickle into his mouth lest she drowns him, something she had to fight hard not to do. He didn't open his eyes but kept them screwed shut tightly, releasing a weak cough when she pulled the glass back and lowered his head. She turned to Macmillan, being more than aware of the eyes watching her as she did so. She slipped her hand beneath him and supported his head, bringing the glass to his lips. His eyes opened slowly, showing no recognition as she fed him the water.

When done, the glass vanished from her hand silently and she lowered his head to the ground, using that hand to softly brush his sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead. His gaze slowly refocused and she felt him twitch, not having the energy to move away from her.

She smiled down at him softly and titled her head, her eyes large and open.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," she cooed. "It had not been my intention that Riddle would take your attack against me personally, that he would punish you on my behalf. Had he listened to me, you would only be suffering _one_ punishment, not _two_." His eyes widened in horror. "That's right, Michael. I remember what happened, what you said about my father being a powerful wizard that pissed off Grindelwald and got himself and my mother killed, leaving me an orphan. Surely you must have realised that he would ensure his only child, his _daughter_ , would be well equipped and versatile in _all_ forms of magic. Unfortunately for you, you targeted the wrong witch, one, who has no qualms about seeking justice. Had I been the only one, I might have been merciful, but I'm not, am I? How many?" She directed her question to him but he didn't answer, whether it was out of fear or his inability to do so, she wasn't entirely certain.

"Twenty-three," Lestrange answered when no one else did.

"Twenty-three? How long?"

"This is their second year," he replied.

"Hmmm," she hummed softly. "Michael, you've been a very busy boy, haven't you?" She trailed her finger down his cheek gently before tapping the tip of his nose, as if scolding an animal. He groaned in pain and Hermione smiled. "Twenty-three witches in just over a year. Tell me, what motivated you to do this? Is it that you're just a twisted fucker or is there something deeper to all of this, are you impotent? Is that it? You can't get it up unless the witch is vulnerable, unable to fight back, or is it that you're such a shitty lay you don't want the witch to remember any of it?"

A surprised snort of laughter sounded from behind her but she kept her attention on Macmillan, his eyes widening further the more she spoke.

"Why did he target _me_?"

"From what we've been able to gather, he thought you weak, that you would be unable to physically and magically defend yourself," Malfoy answered, his gaze darting between her and Riddle.

"A big mistake," Hermione promised. "Don't worry, Michael, you won't receive the full brunt of my punishment, Carrow will feel my displeasure just as much as you. I believe everyone should be treated equally, and it wouldn't be fair should I only give you my attention. From what I remember, you _both_ wanted it last night and you what do you know, you both getting what you wanted. I imagine you wish for this to be over, that I should just kill you but I don't work that way. Killing is pointless. It's messy and a bit of a pain in the arse, to be honest. If I kill you, you escape punishment, justice, and that is something I can't have. But I promise, Michael, you'll be in bed before you know it."

He released a strangled noise that caught in the back of his throat and she smiled down at him, brushing the hair back from his face once more.

"But I must thank you, Michael. Never before have I been told I snog like the devil, and I must confess, that was something of an unexpected confidence boost. Now, I think I've dragged this out long enough, don't you? I'll be gentle, I promise," she finished in a whisper, her mouth by his ear, her breath ghosting over his skin and he shuddered in horror.

Hermione's mouth tugged into a smile and she pressed a soft kiss to his temple before she rose to her feet, slowly backing up with her eyes locked on him. Silently, she slipped her robes from her shoulders, allowing them to fall down her arms before she neatly folded it across her arm and then retrieved her wand from her robe pocket. With her wand in hand, she held her robes out to the left, turning her eyes to Nott.

"Thoros? Yes? Be a dear and hold these for me, would you?"

It wasn't a request and he knew it, silently stepping forward and taking them from her grasp, falling back into his previous spot, his expression one of horror, surprise and intrigue.

"Thank you," she smiled softly. He shuddered. "Now, what to do? What to do?" She muttered to herself, slowly circling the two wizards on the ground, twirling her wand lazily between her fingers in a show of dexterity.

"Hmmm, I suppose I could..." She paused in her steps, aiming her wand at Carrow. "No, not nearly harrowing enough," she shook her head, continuing in her steps. "How about..." she paused, pointing her wand at Macmillan, before pacing once more. "Nope, too messy," she shook her head. "I could always..." she paused, crouching down by their heads, Hermione running the tip of her wand across Carrow's throat and reaching out with her other hand, brushing it through Macmillan's hair. They both shuddered and Hermione smiled. "I confess, I'm enjoying this very much. It's been a long time since I've righted a wrong."

She rose to her feet and circled them once more before halting, tilting her head this way and that before lifting her eyes, seeing those around her watching her intently, their expressions varying from intrigue, surprise, horror and annoyance.

"Patience, Dolohov," Hermione chastised, the wizard bristling at her tone.

Hermione hummed before releasing a sigh. "I know, I don't look nearly frightening enough, do I? I look too weak and nonthreatening, don't I? Well, that's an easy fix."

She reached up and removed her glasses, an eerie silence settling in the room as she saw their eyes widen comically. Without her glasses, she looked like a completely different person, and now, she looked terrifying in the way she smiled softly and titled her head innocently but there was something that was terrifying about her. She never understood how no one could see that Clark Kent was Superman when all that separated them was a pair of glasses but since using the same disguise to mask her own personality, she wondered if glasses had originally been Wizarding made.

"That's better," she sighed. Seeing their stares, her mouth tugged into a smirk and they each took the smallest step back, Hermione deliberately keeping her eyes from Riddle and his penetrating gaze, she could already feel his magic beginning to lightly fill the room, so light it was almost unnoticeable. "Oh, has he not told you? Riddle discovered my biggest secret, I don't require glasses," she said innocently before she turned her eyes to the right, seeing Rosier. "Evan, isn't it? You mind if I call you that? Will you hold these for me?" He stepped forward and took them from her before returning to his spot, his gaze never leaving her. "Thank you and please be careful not to break them. Whilst they can be easily repaired, it's not nice to break things that don't belong to you, and as it is, I require those to keep up appearance in the castle."

She turned her eyes back to the two wizards on the ground and then folded her arms over her chest, her wand draping from her fingers and she tapped it against her thigh, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I know the perfect punishment. Given the amount of Crucio's that have been cast recently, I think it best to avoid such magic lest they go into organ failure or they have a heart attack. No, what I have in mind much more suitable."

She unfolded her arms and with no longer having pockets, she reached up and slotted her wand into her bun of wild curls, freeing her hands.

"Much better," she muttered before she stepped forward and crouched in-between Carrow and Macmillan by their heads and Hermione reached out, settling her hands palms down against their foreheads.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and focused, allowing her magic to fill every part of her being until her fingertips tingled. She heard the sound of feet shuffling against the ground but blocked them out, picturing her intentions clearly in her mind.

"Is that him?" Avery muttered, leaning towards Malfoy.

Malfoy darted his eyes to Riddle, seeing the dark expression of intrigue, approval and something that was frightening on him. Hunger.

"No, it's _her_ ," he mumbled knowingly.

"Shit," Avery muttered.

The aura in the room, it was darker, thicker, heavier than they'd ever felt Riddle's being, but there was something decidedly feminine about it.

" _Daemonium_ ," Hermione hissed suddenly before she rose to full height, her hands remaining palms down and hovering over Carrow and Macmillan's heads.

At first, nothing happened, Carrow and Macmillan remained still and the room echoed with silence and then without warning, her eyes opening, her expression dark and frightening and she twisted her hands into tight fists. Blood-curdling screams reverberated in the large stone room, their bodies arched off the ground and their hands came up to their heads, twisting and pulling at their hair.

She didn't seem bothered, a calm, serene expression on her face.

The longer she held the curse, the more they thrashed and they moved from pulling at their hair to clawing at their own faces and arms desperately. Hermione merely smiled.

It was a long while later when they could no longer scream and they were no longer clawing at themselves, their bodies still except for the shudders that passed through them and seeing this, Hermione slowly uncurled her fists and lowered her arms by her sides, their bodies stilling and sagging against the hard ground.

"That was highly satisfying," she commented, breaking the silence and ignoring their stares of horror and surprise. She was sure they weren't actually horrified by what they'd witnessed given who they chose to follow, rather that it was _her_ of all people that had been capable of such an act, one they weren't even certain of the results. "Thoros, close your mouth, you'll catch flies," she instructed, the wizard snapping his mouth shut but not taking his gaze from her. "Well, I believe they have had enough. We keep them any longer and they are sure to be missed and that is something we don't want."

Hermione raised her hand and plucked her wand from her hair, moving to crouch in-between their still trembling bodies, them looking as though they'd passed out. Good. She was quick but efficient with her healing of them, fixing their noses, tending to their swollen tongues and sealing the cuts on their faces and arms until there was no evidence of harm or injury. She did a quick check on their vital signs, seeing no damage to their organs but their heartbeat did seem a little elevated, something that would fix itself. To put the icing on the cake, she altered their memories, something she was highly proficient at. After ensuring they remembered nothing of what occurred recently, including their plan to assault her and their time being tortured to near insanity, she instilled within them new ones of them heavily drinking.

She was quite careful to no remove their fear of her; that was something she wanted to remain. Every time they passed her in the halls or heard her name, fear would spike through them but they wouldn't know why, and she'd done the same with their plans to harm witches, when the thought crossed their minds, they'd be filled with terror, fear-crippling terror. She'd briefly considered taking away their inability to ever procreate but otherwise decided against it. They were both Purebloods and the only heirs to their Houses, it wouldn't be right for her to wipe out two generations of magic when their numbers were already so few against the muggles.

"Well, all of our bases have been covered," Hermione mused, rising to full height. "Thoros, Even, escort them both outside please, just dump them in the corridor."

They glanced between her and Riddle and when he tipped his head in confirmation, they both stepped forward.

"Thank you," she smiled, accepting her glasses and slipping them back into place and then taking her robes from Nott and slipping them on, placing her wand back in her pocket.

She watched as they each levitated one of the wizards out of the room and into the corridor, directing them with their wands and none too gently depositing them on the ground. Hermione followed after them.

"Hideaway, boys," she instructed softly. They shared a glance before stepping back into the room, not closing the door behind them. "Tiggy," Hermione called.

"What can Tiggy do for Missy Hermione," the little elf squeaked, her hands twisted in her pillowcase.

Hermione smiled down at the young elf, her eyes large and dark, her bat-like ears covered with white hair and her skin a grey-green. She had few wrinkles due to her young age and she barely reached Hermione's knees in height.

"Tiggy, I was taking a walk through the castle, exploring my new surroundings, when I happened across these two wizards."

Tiggy's eyes darted towards Hermione's hand, seeing to who she was gesturing towards and a gasp fell from her lips before she rushed forward.

"What happened, Missy Hermione?"

"I'm not entirely sure, I know the punch was spiked last night at the ball, perhaps they had too much to drink or they had their own supply of contraband."

"Tiggy get them to bed and tell Professor Dumbledores."

"Thank you, Tiggy," Hermione smiled.

The moment the little elf popped out of existence with the two wizards, Hermione spun on her heel and entered the room once more, closing the door behind her, stepping into a silent room with all eyes on her.

"Well, that went rather smoothly," she commented lightly.

"They will test their blood alcohol levels," Malfoy informed her, not bothering to pretend as though they hadn't been listening in to her conversation.

She tipped her head and smiled. "I know, that was why I made sure to interfere with their red blood cell count. Not enough to cause worry but enough for them to assume they have been drinking, and I was also careful with altering their memories, replacing them with a night _and_ day of heavy drinking, accounting for them not being seen since the Ball. Whilst I'm sure they won't be expelled, they are highly likely to be issued with detention."

"What did you do to them?" Avery muttered, eyeing her warily.

"Oh, that, just a little something my father taught me," she smiled, commenting no further on the matter. "And now that they've been taken care of, I have one more piece of unfinished business."

Not giving them the chance to voice their questions, she flicked her wrist and Dolohov suddenly cried out with a loud, " _Blyad_!" Rubbing at his stinging arse-cheek, he glared at her murderously and gripped his wand tighter.

"Don't do it, we both know what happened when we last duelled," she rolled her eyes. "You more than deserved that."

"Why?" He gritted his teeth.

"You're partially to blame for what happened last night. I am more than capable of detecting both Love and Lust Potions by both scent and taste. When you spiked the punch, you used the _only_ thing that covered both the smell and taste that would have aided me in identifying it, meaning I wouldn't have drank the entire thing and I would've known what was happening and made myself scarce. Why would you use fire whiskey? Of all things? Why not mead, or wine, ale, or regular whiskey? You're Russian for Merlin's Sake, you could've used vodka! Not only does it have twice the alcohol content, it's cheaper _and_ it doesn't singe your taste buds in the process!" She scolded. "Next time you do something so stupid, and you really ought to be more inconspicuous, I'll give you far worse than a Stinging Hex," she warned.

His glare didn't lose any of its heat which he only moved towards his fellow wizards when they sniggered at his dressing down.

"You're awfully quiet," Hermione observed, tipping her head to the side thoughtfully, looking to Riddle.

"Leave us," he ordered. "Now!" He snapped impatiently when the six wizards took longer than a second to process the order, and they soon fled from the room, stealing glances over their shoulders until the door closed behind them, once more disappearing from view.

Hermione felt her breath hitch and heartbeat quicken and she tugged her robes around herself a little tighter, gripping her wand in her hand. Riddle's gaze was dark and hungry and terrifying, but there was something about it that sent a sudden and wholly unexpected zing down her spine and straight to her toes. She hadn't felt something like that since...

 _Oh shit,_ Hermione thought, part of her feeling horrified and the other not so much.

She told herself it was the aura of his magic, currently swirling the room and wrapping around her like a blanket, in a manner similar to her father. It was heady and heavy, addling her brain and thoughts. It might as well have been a Love Potion. If she could bottle the feeling she'd make a fortune and there'd be no need for Love Potions anymore.

He approached her slowly, predatorily, his hands still in his pockets but his gaze solely focused on her and Hermione unconsciously stepped backwards, right into the wall. Riddle's mouth pulled into a smirk and her eyes widened in alarm when he stopped before her with his towering height, barely any space between them. _Damn him, why did he have to be so tall?_ Her face stared right at his chest, refusing to lift her gaze to his.

He released a deep chuckled and she clenched her jaw, both in annoyance and at the way a shiver raced through her. Since when did he elicit such responses from her? The one time at Flourish and Blotts didn't count, it was the first time he'd gotten deliberately close to her but now, this was something different and she knew it.

"Look at me, _Hermione_."

Hearing her given name from him was a shock to her system, especially as he'd all but caressed the sound as he spoke it. She unwittingly tilted her head back, his ice-blue eyes had darkened to a sea-blue, his expression was open, filled with emotion, something that was rare to see.

And as she stared up at him, something smacked her right in the face, an unwelcome realisation. She wasn't afraid of him, she never had been but standing with him right now, she _knew_ he wouldn't harm her. Sexually or otherwise.

When she'd woken in his bed earlier that day and she'd caught sight of him, something had fluttered within her that she hadn't been able to identify until that very moment. She didn't want to voice, to think it, to admit it, but she had to. Upon waking, upon learning what'd happened, that she'd been vulnerable and he'd _protected_ her when he definitely didn't have to or when he could've easily taken advantage, she'd felt _safe_ with him. Safer than she had in a long time. And that scared her, terrified her.

"Can I help you, Riddle?" Hermione cleared her throat and pushed all of her emotions deep down, gathering her wits.

"In more ways than one," he replied.

She scowled at him and folded her arms against her chest, him being so close they pressed against his chest, too.

"What was that curse?"

She eyed him warily. "Why?"

"It was similar to the Cruciatus but the incantation was different. I can't recall coming across it."

"I doubt you will, it's only mentioned in two books, one of which is illegal and the other there's fewer than five copies left in existence."

"Is that so? _Where_ did you learn it?"

"My father,"

"And why is your father teaching you dark magic?"

"There is no such thing as light and dark magic, it's all based on intent. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."

A startled noise sounded from her when she was pushed back into the wall, hands had settled on her waist and Riddle leaned in closer, his head lowering and his nose brushing the length of her neck.

How hadn't she noticed how good he smelled? It was dark, citrusy, woodsy, mixed with an expensive cologne he probably hadn't purchased for himself. He smelled powerful. Did power even have a smell? It was dizzying, intoxicating being so close to him, especially when his magic surrounded her like that.

"It's like you're reading my mind," he muttered softly. Hermione clenched her hands tightly, her arms still being folded over her chest. "The curse, what does it do?"

"As far as I'm aware, it's not technically outlawed but neither is it encouraged. You are correct in saying it's similar to the Cruciatus, both cause unimaginable pain and both don't cause physical injury. However, the curse I used, whilst psychological, doesn't cause pain in the way you might assume. I would explain it as being a combination of both a dementor and a boggart."

"Meaning?"

"Dementors are known for feeding on positive energy, sending the sanest of people to insanity and boggarts are creatures known for their ability to use their target's greatest fear against them. The curse works in a similar manner. I forced Carrow and Macmillan to face their greatest fears on a loop, it only ending when I allow it. The longer the curse is in effect, the worse it is. You see, people forget pain, they don't forget humiliation or traumatizing events, like the one I just forced. The incantation literally translates to Demon. As in, facing one's own demons."

His grip on her waist tightened, her heartbeat sped up, something she knew he'd feel if he kept running his nose over her neck. She refused to tilt her head, giving him better access.

"Teach me it," he spoke softly. It wasn't a request, it was an order.

"No,"

"No?" He muttered.

"No," she repeated. "I was sworn to never give up the magics my father taught me, not unless I could trust them."

"And you don't trust me?"

"Only as far as I could throw you and considering I struggle to open a bloody jam jar without help, that isn't saying much." His grip tightened a little more, not enough to bruise or injure but certainly enough to notice, and then his lips brushed her skin. "Stop," she commanded.

He completely took her by surprise when he did, his hands dropping from her waist and he took a step back, putting a little distance between them.

Seeing her surprised expression, he said, "I like my women willing."

She frowned before giving her head a shake.

"I won't teach you the curse, but," she added, seeing him arch his eyebrow, "I feel it only fair I teach you _something_. Despite it going against my wishes, and as you saw, I'm quite capable of handling myself, you _did_ enact revenge on my behalf. So," she stepped away from him and moved closer to the centre of the room, Riddle watching her movements and slotting his hands into his pockets once more. "Wand out." His mouth twitched and his eyebrow arched. "Oh, for Merlin's Sake, grow up!" She snapped.

He rolled his eyes but his wand appeared in his hand and he approached her, looking to her for instruction.

"The incantation is _Praesidio_ , and the wand movements are fairly simple," she explained, seeing Riddle's eyes trained on her wand the moment she raised it. She deliberately slowed her movements so he could see the deep arch, swish, flick and twist of the wrist.

"That is simple?"

"For us, yes, others are most likely to struggle," she replied.

His mouth twitched into a smirk but he echoed her movements, perfecting it on the third attempt. Much could be said about Riddle but no one could deny he was a brilliant wizard.

"What is the purpose?" He questioned, feeling the magic surround him but not _seeing_ any results.

Hermione smiled before muttering, " _Sanguinem Maledicta_ ," a burst of neon red light soaring towards Riddle only to be absorbed by a bubble-like shield that shimmered blue upon impact. That same neon light made a reappearance, passing through the shield behind him and smacking into the wall.

He lowered his wand and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Did you just throw a Blood Curse at me?" He questioned, partially impressed and partially surprised that she'd dared to do such a thing.

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes. " _Praesidio_ is a shield, one that will and can withstand the majority of classified level three through to five 'dark' curses. Exceptionally handy, you're welcome."

She turned on heel and made to leave, she felt it before she saw it and she was quick to throw a shield over her shoulder, twisting to see the pale orange light rebounding into a stone column. Riddle looked to her innocently. Hermione narrowed her eyes. If he wanted a duel, she'd give him one.

She hadn't had a good one in a long while, the last one being their duel in DADA which Dumbledore had interrupted. Not only would they never be caught given their location, but Hermione still had some pent up anger in her from the happenings of last night. She was determined to prove to Riddle that she could and would win in a duel against him and that anger would help her.

~000~000~000~

She'd long since discarded her robes, them being tossed in a mess on the ground. She'd long since lost her glasses, them being broken and cracked on the ground. Her hair had long since fallen from its restraint, falling down her back and over her shoulders in a wild, bushy mess that only seemed to grow bigger the more her annoyance grew.

Her heart beat quickly in her chest, her breathing was laboured and sweat was forming on her brow, a cut dribbled blood down her cheek, a burn stung against her shin and her back ached from hitting the ground a little too hard. Riddle appeared to be a little better, his usually perfect hair messier than she'd ever seen it, his clothing rumpled and a cut to his forearm, it dripping blood on the floor. She took great pride in the fact she'd managed to jab him with a Stinging Hex right to his arse, too. She'd found it hilarious, Riddle hadn't agreed.

The table was now a pile of rubble, the chairs were dotted about the room, some being destroyed and other's singed and burnt. Two of the stone columns had been reduced to rubble, thankfully they weren't there for structural support or the ceiling might've caved in on them and they'd both be dead.

She wasn't exactly certain how long had passed, she'd stop trying to gauge the time when Riddle had hit her with a Slicing Hex, but she knew they'd been duelling for more than an hour, at least. In all honesty, she was getting tired but she refused to back down, she refused to let him win and she refused to show her exhaustion lest she gives him the upper hand. So far they'd been evenly matched and it had taken a long while for one of them to land the first hit. She knew Riddle was both impressed and annoyed, feeling it in his magic as it filled the room but she wasn't backing down, pushing back with her own magical aura until it slammed into him.

They circled one another, eyeing each other carefully, looking for any tell the other was about to strike. Without either of them noticing, the space between them was growing smaller the longer they continued the standoff, and getting bored, Hermione lobbed a Dismembering Curse at Riddle, not being surprised when he blocked it with a _Praesidio_. Damn, she never should have taught him, and he knew she was thinking it, his smirk spoke for him.

"You're a giant pain in the arse," Hermione snapped, throwing a _Reducto_ his way. "Don't you dare say it," she glared, following it with Genital Hex for good measure. He blocked it easily.

"It's not my fault, you presented the opportunity, it would've been rude had I not taken it," he replied innocently.

"Take this you bloody prat!" She lobbed a ball of fire his way and when he was distracted extinguishing it, his previous shield not be equipped to defend against it properly, she pointed her wand to the ground, muttering, " _Glacius_!"

She smiled smugly when he unexpectedly lost his footing, and he struggled to remain upright. They were close enough that he lunged for her, grabbing her arm and taking her down to the ground with him as she let out a shriek of surprise.

They landed in such a way that Riddle took the brunt of the fall and Hermione sprawled across him. Not thinking of the implications, she shifted atop him until she straddled his stomach, one hand pressed against the floor by his head and she held the tip of her wand against his throat with the other hand.

"I win," she smiled smugly.

He smirked and his eyes darted down, Hermione frowned and followed his gaze, seeing he had his wand pressed against her side, the other hand lay lightly on her hip

"Shite!" She sighed in annoyance. "We tied again."

"If you want to get technical, I am the winner."

She scoffed. "Now this I've got to hear."

"I landed the most hits."

"Like hell you did," she glared down at him. "I admit that I have the most physical injuries, barely, but I hit you with a Stinging Hex, a Tripping Jinx, an Entrapment Ward and a Quick-Sand Hex, and that's off the top of my head."

His eyes narrowed but she wasn't backing down and she narrowed her eyes right back. His eyes suddenly moved from hers and lifted, locking on her hair.

"What?" She frowned.

"You are the only person I've seen that has a physical magical response," he answered, his wand lowering from her side and he reached up with his hand, tugging on one of her many curls, seeming amused at the spark of magic that zinged through it when it bounced back into place, frizzing up.

"It's always done it, I don't know why," she shrugged. "The first time it happened, I displayed my first signs of magic in shattering windows. Well, I was showing signs around the age of three and four with silly little things like levitating my stuffed animals or changing the colour of my clothes, but this was my first _big_ sign of magic. I was angry at my mother for forcing me to wear a hideous dress, taking my book from me and making me eat sprouts, something I've always hated. She wanted me to play with the neighbours' kids but they didn't like me, they thought me weird and would make fun of me, push me around. So, I'm not afraid to admit I had the biggest temper tantrum a five-year-old could have and I shattered every window on that floor. My mother was furious and sent me to my room, which is when I saw the mess that was my hair in the mirror. My father waited until my mother went to bed and then he snuck into my room, woke me up, gave me the biggest hug he could without hurting me and he took me for ice-cream the next day," she said, only some of it being a lie but most of it had been true.

"You should wear your hair down more often," he commented out of nowhere, tugging on a second curl, his lip twitching when it sprang back into place, right in her face and she huffed out a breath to blow it out of her face and she stared down at him in annoyance.

"Is that an order or an opinion?" She questioned.

"An order," he clarified.

"In that case, no. I don't take orders from you."

"Then it's my opinion,"

"In that case, still no. I don't care for your opinion," she replied. He rolled his eyes. "I wear it up for two reasons. One, it gets in the way when I leave it down and I don't want to risk it catching fire in potions, and two, not only will it make me stand out given the current hair trends of this decade, but it's easier to manage. The weight of my hair prevents me from looking like a frizzy-arse poodle."

He snorted. "I'm unsure if I prefer you with or without glasses," he mentioned offhandedly.

"Oh?"

"Hmmm, with them you look weak, vulnerable but it's easier to read you. Without them, you're powerful, noticeable."

"Thanks," she replied drily, "Just what I've always wanted to hear. You know, I think this is the longest conversation we've had without trying to main one another."

"A respite is needed,"

"Wear you out, did I?" Her mouth twitched.

"Far from it, I think you'll find I've very good stamina," he smirked.

"Like I haven't heard that before," she rolled her eyes. She pulled her wand away from his neck and pressed her fisted hand against the floor to get more comfortable, in doing so she suddenly realised their current positions.

She refused to blush; she hadn't blushed in years, not since she'd started a relationship with her favourite Beater. He'd pretty much shagged the pureness and shyness out of her and he'd had a great time doing it, too. She knew, he told her often and was never shy about his feelings or comments.

She darted her eyes down her body, noting that her pretty blue dress whilst modest and appropriate for the era, certainly wasn't helping matters right now. At least it covered everything it was supposed to from sight despite the only thing separating them from skin on skin contact being Riddle's jumper and her underwear.

She lifted her gaze, seeing that Riddle's ice-blue eyes had darkened slightly, his gaze very telling.

"Oh, would you look at that, Riddle," she tipped her head slightly. " _I'm_ the one that's on top, _over_ you," she commented lightly, reminding him of his comment from earlier the day before. As if it had only been two days. This had been the longest weekend of her life and she couldn't wait for it to be over.

Riddle didn't comment on the fact but he did say, "Are you going to get off?" He arched his brow.

"Are you going to let me?" She cocked her own eyebrow, feeling the way both his hands moved to grip her hips.

She held still when he lifted his head, bringing his face closer to hers and as their noses brushed, Hermione huffed out a breath when she found herself sprawling on the ground, glaring up at Riddle as he hovered above her, a smirk on his lips.

"And now _I'm_ on top, _over_ you. Just as I said I would be."

"I foresee your future,"

"Yes?"

"Yes, it's happened twice now so you must be careful to avoid it."

"And what have you seen?"

"A broken nose, caused by me," she answered, her tone airy.

"How near in the future?"

"Very," she scowled. "Are you going to get off?"

"Are you going to let me?" He fired back, lowering his gaze and Hermione followed, her scowl deepening when she saw that at some point during the switch, she'd fisted her hands in his jumper.

"Oh, get off,"

Riddle released a deep chuckle, a shiver darting down her spine when he pushed himself away from her and rose to his feet, dusting himself off and running a hand through his hair.

Hermione pierced him with a withering glare before climbing to her feet and brushing down her dress and then she retrieved her robes, slipping them on. She piled her hair on top of her head, muttering a Sticking Charm to keep it in place and she turned her attention to fixing her glasses, propping them on her nose.

"You look as threatening as a puffskein," he remarked.

She scowled at him. "I'll take that as a compliment," she lifted her head and set her hands on her hips. "They're adorable and I've always wanted one, sadly, my mother was allergic, she couldn't get within ten feet without sneezing up a storm."

That was true, she'd visit Diagon Alley during Christmas her first year and purchased one but the moment she stepped through the door her mother couldn't stop sneezing. Sadly she had to return it the same day, it had broken her twelve-year-old heart.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, it's getting late and I best check on my familiar, she throws a right tantrum when I'm gone too long," she said, which was true. Athena could be quite the diva. She turned on her heel and headed for the door, pausing for a moment. "I _will_ win next time. You best bring your A-game, Riddle, I fight to win."

Not giving him the chance to respond, she stepped out of the room, shut the door behind her and quickly made her way down the corridors. By the time she reached her dorm, she was aware she'd missed curfew and she'd barely dodged the prefects doing the rounds of the castle. Part of her wanted Riddle to get caught but knew he wouldn't. Not only was he smart enough to use magical aid, not only was he charming enough to talk himself out of detention, but he was head boy, they wouldn't dare to cross him.

Stepping into her dorm, Hermione released a startled noise when Athena hovered before her, flapping her wings madly and squawking at her loudly, her black, beady eyes watching her as if to say 'Where have you been, young lady? I've been worried sick.'

"Sorry," Hermione said sheepishly, soothing the disgruntled phoenix by stroking her feathers and Athena soon calmed, perching on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione crossed the room with the intention to head straight to bed but something caught her eyes. Two boxes sat atop the coffee table, both wrapped in purple and silver but one being larger than the other.

Her brow furrowing, Hermione moved over to it, picking up the first and larger box. Looking to Athena and the phoenix nodding as if to give her agreement, Hermione unwrapped the box and lifted the lid, staring in surprise at the contents. The box was filled with all of her favourite chocolates and sweets, some of which hadn't yet been invented and there was certainly enough to give her parents a heart attack and send them into a rant about oral hygiene and the damage sugar did to teeth. Blinking slowly, she reached for the note sat atop the contents and lifted it, flipping it open.

 _Nicely done,_

 _HH_

She frowned in confusion before it suddenly hit her. HH. _Helga Hufflepuff._

Dropping the box on the table in surprise, she took a moment to regain her bearings before turning to the other box, quickly undoing the wrapping and removing the lid. Inside sat a book that looked older than Hogwarts itself, Hermione dared not touch it for fear of causing damage.

A note sat atop it and she gingerly reached for it, flipping it open.

 _Impressive._

 _Let's see what you can do with this._

 _MLF_

She could only think of one person with those initials. _Morgana Le Fey_.

Hermione fell onto the couch, Athena voicing her disapproval.

Helga Hufflepuff, her Godmother and Morgana Le Fey, her father's enemy-turned-friend, sent her congratulatory gifts for using a curse on two fellow students that would not only have seen her being expelled should she have been caught, but likely thrown in Azkaban, too.

Her world had changed dramatically. Part of her liked it.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

* * *

Summary: Hermione's life is changed forever when she is saved during The Final Battle at Hogwarts by her Father. A man she didn't recognise. A man of great power. A man legends were written about. A man that gives her a new mission. A man that most certainly wasn't Richard Granger. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: All canon events and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I'm not making any financial gain from posting this.

 **AN**

I love that some of you still can't believe what our devious Hufflepuff did. I'm so glad you enjoyed the darker side of Hermione.

Are we ready for Slughorn's party and a surprise visitor?

Right now I'm literally running out the door as I'm late for work, so enjoy!

 **Q &A**

Ash – I get it, I share my birth week with my cousin, her birthday being the day before mine, and my birth month has sixth birthdays, too, all within two weeks of each other. But, here's something you don't have to share with her. Happy Birthday!

* * *

Page count: 20

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Monday 30th October 1944**

"Can I help you?" Hermione lifted her gaze from her textbook, staring up at the dark eyes of Evan Rosier as he stood before her desk.

"Nilrem," he greeted, "Is this seat taken?" He tipped his head towards the empty seat beside her.

Hermione, eyeing him suspiciously, lifted her school bag from the seat and placed it on the ground by her feet without taking her gaze from him. Seeing this, he tipped his head in thanks and rounded the table, taking the seat beside her, removing his CoMC textbook from his bag and placing it on the table. Monday was always theory-based whilst the remaining lessons took place out on the school grounds. Given the weather was growing quite cold as they approached winter, she was grateful for a semi-warm classroom.

Once he'd finished with setting up his workspace, a quill, pot of ink and some parchment laid before him, she turned her attention back to the passage before her. She'd already read _Most Macabre Monstrosities_ before when she'd found the information about the basilisk back in her second year, but she wanted to do a quick recap on Manticores, the subject of that day's lesson.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Hermione slowly pulled her eyes from her book and to Rosier, arching an eyebrow.

"Perfectly fine, thank you. Yourself?"

"Great," he replied, watching her cautiously.

Hermione's mouth twitched and for a bit of fun, she reached up and removed her glasses, making a show of cleaning the lenses with her jumper, being fully entertained in the way a shiver visibly passed through Rosier and he leaned back from her slightly.

"That's good to hear," she smiled, slipping her glasses back on her nose and he seemed to calm, the tension in his body relaxing.

It was a wonder how a simple pair of glasses made a difference. With them he seemed unconcerned, without them, he was terrified. She loved that.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, why are you sitting with me? I know you usually sit by yourself at the back of the classroom."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps I was in the mood for a little bit of company."

"Or, Riddle's put you up to sitting with me. He's asked you to keep an eye on me, hasn't he?"

"I don't know what you mean," he lied.

She snorted and his eyes widened a little at the unladylike sound leaving her. She'd forgotten he was a Slytherin, all of his house filled with Pureblood witches, none of them would be seen dead doing such a thing. She'd forgotten only Riddle had seen this side of her.

"Come now, Evan, I am not an idiot and neither am I blind. I was quite aware of Lestrange scaring a Hufflepuff out of his seat so he might sit at the workbench to my left in herbology, Riddle already occupies the seat to my right in potions, much to my annoyance, and now here you are, sitting beside me, too."

"You should be careful what you say, Nilrem," he warned, his eyes darting about as if he was worried they were being watched.

She rolled her eyes. "Riddle does not scare me, far from it. I can handle him just fine. So, what is his plan? To have me surrounded so no one would dare lay a finger on me, so they'd be too afraid to even look at me? How will that work in regards to using the bathroom? Or meal times?" She tipped her head questioningly.

"I don't know why you're being so stubborn, just give him what he wants. It's easier that way."

"Is that a friendly bit of advice?" She arched her eyebrow.

"You know what he did," he lowered his voice. "But he's capable of so much more," he told her, a frightened look entering his eyes before he gave his head a shake. "His patience will eventually wear thin."

Hermione smiled. "I can handle, Riddle. And no, I shan't give him what he wants."

"Why not?" He asked, looking exasperated.

"Because, he wants _me_. And I don't want to be his. I'm not a possession, I'm a human being, something he seems to be having difficulty understanding. But this does not concern you, though I am grateful for your concern."

"Nilrem..."

"No, Evan. I won't give him what he wants. I know far more than you realise and I know what I'm doing. Now, if you're going to interrupt my learning environment, I would appreciate it if you would return to your previous seat, I have a record to maintain and I don't take _kindly_ to people interfering with my learning." He released a grumbled breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Don't do that," she scolded, reaching out and batting his hand away from his mop of hair. Honestly, she thought Harry's had been bad. "You need a haircut."

"Excuse me?" He questioned in surprise.

"You need a haircut," she repeated. "I'm sorry to say, it's quite hard to pull off the 'just rolled out of bed' look and unfortunately it's not working for you, rather, you look like a tramp."

"Excuse me?" His voice rose in indignation.

Hermione had to fight back the snigger. He honestly looked as insulted as a disgruntled hippogriff and it was hilarious.

"You look like a tramp," she repeated slowly. "Not to worry, it's an easy enough fix and I'd be happy to do it for you. No? Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me, after all, Riddle's been having me followed for weeks now so I'm certain you know my routine better than I do."

"Everyone, settle down, we have a lot to get through today," called the professor as he stepped into the room.

Hermione wasn't even that upset that she hadn't gotten the chance to finish reading the passage in her book.

~000~000~000~

"Report," Tom instructed, his gaze firmly fixed on Nilrem sat at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, as close to the door as possible.

He observed her eyeing her lunch cautiously before she raised her goblet of water, sniffing at it purposely before tapping the tip of her wand against the rim. Apparently being happy with the results, she sipped at the cold liquid but still eyed the food suspiciously. She'd been doing this from the moment she'd taken a seat for lunch, her gaze darting between the food options and her opened textbook. She hadn't been at breakfast that morning and despite not wanting to admit it, that had unsettled him.

"She appeared to be fine in herbology, nothing I wouldn't normally expect from her," Lestrange shrugged, his eyes being on his plate.

Tom sent him an unhappy glance before turning his gaze to Rosier.

"I would say she is taking this far too well," Rosier answered. "She appeared no different to her usual self in class and she implied harm should I interrupt her learning."

"What aren't you telling me?" He asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Rosier shifted in his seat uncomfortably and reached for his goblet, taking a sip before setting it back on the table.

"She...Erm..." He hesitated. Seeing Malfoy's look of warning, he took a breath and continued. "She may have chastised me."

"For?" Tom arched his eyebrow.

"She said I need a haircut because I look like a tramp."

Tom gazed at him for a moment before a chuckle slipped past his lips, surprising those around him as they shared a glance.

"She is not wrong, Rosier," Tom replied. "As we are all aware, appearance is everything," he spoke pointedly, his eyes firmly locked on the witch of his obsession, feeling pleased when she finally picked up a slice of buttered bread and nibbled at it.

"Today's remaining classes are shared with Nilrem, I'll be sure to keep an eye on her but remain close by should I need you," he instructed.

~000~000~000~

"Are you avoiding me?"

Hermione halted in her steps, released a tired sigh and then turned around, coming face to face with Riddle.

"Yes, I thought that was obvious," she replied.

"Why?"

"You're a giant pain in the arse," she shrugged, spinning on her heel and continuing down the corridor.

She had a free period, the last one of the day but she hadn't felt like spending it in the library and neither had she felt like spending it in her rooms, so she'd walked the corridors in silence, searching for the perfect spot for a bit of light reading. She wasn't surprised Riddle had been following her, he hadn't left her alone all day and it had taken everything she had in her not to hex him in the middle of class.

"I am only concerned for your well-being," he said, falling into step beside her which wasn't all that hard to do given his long legs.

"I'm touched," she responded drily, "However, I am more than capable of caring for myself and I don't need your concern."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Stubborn? Me? I don't know what you mean. I like to think of it as being independent."

She turned the corner and headed for a door at the end of the corridor, a door she knew hid a broom cupboard, but what most people didn't know was there was a second door inside that opened up to a staircase which led to one of the castle turrets. Though it was clear he was surprised by the reveal of the secret staircase no one knew about, that didn't stop him from following her to the very top until they stepped into an empty room. This was something that wasn't on the Marauder's Map, it not having been found by the Marauders. The only reason she knew about its existence was that her father had told her about it.

The circular room was barren and small, barely enough room for a handful of people to fit in comfortably but for her and Riddle, it would do. Without comment, she approached the window, climbing the two steps that would allow her to perch on the stone ledge before she reached up, opening the window and letting in the autumn chill. Not acknowledging Riddle's presence, she silently reached inside her bag and removed _Most Macabre Monstrosities_ and opened it up to the bookmark.

"How did you know this was here?" Riddle asked, no doubt surveying his surroundings suspiciously.

"My father, he used to come here to study away from the rest of the school. It comes in quite handy, too, when you want to hide from somebody, however, I'm afraid I'll have to find somewhere else now," she responded, looking to him pointedly.

He slowly approached, moving to perch beside her on the window ledge, not needing to use the steps as she had, which she admitted, was a little annoying.

"And what has your attention this afternoon?"

Hermione didn't take her eyes from the page as she lifted the book, showing him the cover before lowering it back to her lap.

" _Most Macabre Monstrosities_ ," he mused.

"That is what the title says," she agreed. "I've already completed my assignment for class, but I felt a little more research was in order."

"Oh?"

"Yes, we had to select two creatures of our choosing and complete a profile based on the species."

"And what species did you choose?"

"Only the most intriguing, of course," she replied, her mouth twitching into a smirk when she lifted her gaze from her book, looking to him. "Acromantula and Basilisks."

Riddle's entire body froze beside her and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Intriguing?" He pressed.

"Yes, intriguing," she nodded. "I heard a rumour that there was a death last year, as well as a few attacks. It sent the school into panic, so much so it almost closed. After doing a little digging, I love a good research project, I discovered an Acromantula was said to have been responsible for the attacks, but reports from the hospital wing say the attacks involved petrifaction."

"Is that so?" He inquired innocently.

"It is," she nodded.

"And how do you know that?"

"Well, I broke into the hospital wing and searched the records," she confessed, "How else was I supposed to get my hands on the reports?"

"That's a serious break of school rules, Nilrem," he told her, his expression blank.

"Oh, you'd be a good Head Boy and report me?" She arched a brow. "And here I thought we had something special," she rolled her eyes. "Please, we've both done far worse. Anyway, after some light reading, I discovered that there was no possible way an Acromantula could've been responsible, they don't have the ability to render a human or being in such a state. Basilisks, on the hand, do."

"What do you know, Nilrem?" His voice lowered and his magic suddenly swarmed the small room as he leaned closer, staring down at her with dark, dangerous eyes.

She smiled. "Well, I've heard mention of a possible hidden room in the castle, created by one of the Founders themselves. The Chamber of Secrets was said to have belonged to one, Salazar Slytherin, and a creature was said to have been locked away, waiting for the day the Heir of Slytherin returned to Hogwarts to free it. Of course, this is all just speculation and there's no actual proof, but it is interesting, wouldn't you agree?" She asked innocently, taking far too much pleasure in his stunned expression. "How could someone, a professor, completely overlook the fact that Acromantulas aren't capable of petrifaction? But, I suppose they were just glad to have something to blame and with the attacks no longer happening, the school could remain open. No harm done, right? Unless, it's still here and waiting to be called upon again? Say, you were a prefect last year, right? Did you hear anything about these attacks? Do you think there's some truth to the legend of the Chamber and the Heir of Slytherin?" She tipped her head, snapping her book shut.

"I can't say I did," he replied.

Her mouth twitched. "Oh, that's a shame," she frowned. "Imagine if there really was an Heir of Slytherin, and they were in the school with us? I can only imagine the power they'd possess and if I'm honest, I'd quite like to meet someone so powerful. It's said Slytherin had the ability to speak to snakes, so I'd assume that ability would be passed down through the bloodline. Can you imagine possessing such a rare gift?"

"You almost seem jealous," he commented, his body relaxing and his expression morphing into pleased smugness.

"A little," she admitted. "But, not everyone can be born for greatness," she shrugged. "Anyway, I best get back to my dorm, I need to check on my familiar."

She stood from the ledge, placed the book back in her school bag and hopped off the steps, amusing him.

"Nilrem, you're attending Slughorn's party tomorrow, aren't you?" He questioned, standing from the ledge and slipping his hands into his trouser pockets casually.

"Unfortunately," she sighed, pausing in her steps towards the door and turning to face him. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you have an escort?"

She tipped her head slightly before she reached up, pulled her glasses from her face and cleaned the lenses with her jumper, arching an eyebrow. The change in him was instantaneous. If it were possible he'd have stood taller, his ice-blue eyes darkened and his magic swarmed her heavily, his expression similar to the one from the day before when they'd been in alone the Room of Requirements. _So all she had to do was remove her glasses? Interesting,_ she thought.

"No, I don't have an escort. I have since learned my lesson."

"Then perhaps I might escort you."

"I don't believe that would be wise," she replied, taking her time with cleaning the lenses of her glasses.

"Why not?" He arched an eyebrow.

"We both know what happened to the last wizard that escorted me to a party."

"We both know I am not foolish enough to wish you such harm," he responded.

She tipped her head to the other side. "Even still, I can't imagine it being a good decision. You were last seen with Selwyn, what would people say should you be seen escorting me to a party not two days after?"

"They are not stupid enough to make such comments," he argued, knowing what she was implying without having to actually say it.

"You have far too much faith in the school populace, more so than I. And whilst they might not make comments about you, they most certainly will about me. As it is, should word get back to Selwyn and she attempts to harm me, I will be forced to defend myself and I won't be merciful. As such, I don't want to risk my position here at Hogwarts."

"You will be safe, I'll make sure of it."

"That's kind of you, and I appreciate the offer, Riddle, but, for my peace of mind, I'm going to attend the party alone."

"That will be just as bad as attending with me," he pointed out.

"Maybe," she shrugged, "But at least I won't be accused of stealing you from Selwyn," she rolled her eyes, "Or heaven forbid, that I'm _interested_ in you. I've no doubt I'll see you or one of your little henchmen later, so until then," she bowed mockingly before slipping her glasses back on and heading for the door, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"You know, Riddle, now that I think about it, that bathroom on the second floor corridor, is it just me or was there a serpent carved into one of the sinks?" She asked, turning to look over her shoulder, seeing his expression morphing yet again. God, she loved winding him up! "Hmm, must be a coincidence," she shook her head before leaving out the door.

~000~000~000~

 **Tuesday 31st October 1944**

"What do you think? Do I look presentable?" Hermione asked Athena, twisting to look over her shoulder. The phoenix released a squawk and flapped her wings. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said before she turned away from the mirror, not wishing to stare at her reflection any longer lest she change her mind; she was already second-guessing her choice in dress and makeup as it was. "I won't be long." Athena released a squawk and tipped her head to the side. Hermione rolled her eyes. "That was one time and it wasn't my fault," she argued before giving her head a shake and heading for the door.

Hermione was sure to cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and a Silencing Charm on her shoes, allowing her to make her way to the dungeons unseen by any of the students who were wandering the castle but at the late hour, most would be in their dorms and common rooms with curfew just around the corner. Only those sixteen and older were allowed to attend Slughorn's ridiculous party and she was not looking forward to it. If it were anything like the Christmas party she'd attended she'd duck out within the hour.

As she reached her destination, she could hear chatter and faint music coming from behind the door and after steeling her nerves and taking a breath, she removed the charm until she was visible and then she stepped inside. The sounds grew marginally louder and her eyes scanned her surroundings, seeing the many lit candles, torches and candelabras, the swatches of silk and fancy table cloths where finger foods and beverages sat atop, as well as a waiter or two dressed smartly in dark robes wandering around with samples and trays of wine and mead.

There was far more people than she was expecting there to be and most of them she didn't recognise which wasn't all that surprising given they looked to be older than the current student population. Before she'd properly had chance to take it all in, Slughorn was before her, complimenting her beauty despite his clear surprise at her appearance and she was soon introduced to a number of Ministry officials as he raved and ranted about Hermione's intelligence. She remained quiet and smiled politely, only speaking when asked questions and appearing humble or embarrassed in the appropriate places. It was exhausting.

It was sometime later when Hermione was able to escape Slughorn and she didn't hesitate to approach the beverages, eyeing her options cautiously. She chose the elf wine, it not being her favourite choice but it was easier to detect if it had been tampered with. Not smelling anything suspicious and after taking a small sip and tasting the bitter flavour it was known for having, she deemed it safe for consumption. She knew she was being paranoid but she'd be suspicious of all food and drink for the foreseeable future.

She startled when someone stepped up beside her, reaching for a flute of champagne.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine, I was in a world of my own and didn't hear you approach," she replied, turning to look to her right, her eyes widening the tiniest bit.

Whilst she'd never seen the wizard before, not only was she well aware of how handsome he was, but that he seemed familiar to her, too. His hair was dark, thick and wavy, falling just over the tips of his ears and a strand falling over his forehead and into his eyes. His skin was pale and blemish-free, contrasting against his dark robes and his eyes were so dark she struggled to see the pupil. His nose was straight, his jawline prominent and cheekbones high. He stood tall, towering over her even with the added height of her heels.

Realising she was staring, she gave her head a shake.

"I'm sorry, but for a moment I could've sworn you seemed familiar."

His mouth tugged into a smirk. "You truly are his daughter, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" She frowned in confusion.

"Would you care to dance?" He questioned, holding his hand out towards her.

"But I don't even know your name," she replied, eyeing his hand cautiously.

"Sal, my friends know me as Sal."

"But I'm not your friend," she pointed out.

"No, you're something else entirely," he replied amusedly.

Feeling confused, intrigued and a little uncomfortable, she saw no way of getting out of it and placed her hand in his, allowing him to guide her towards the dance floor where there was a small crowd of dancers. He slipped his hand to her waist and went no further and she slipped her free hand to his shoulder, allowing him to slowly and gently guide her in the steps to the slow melody playing.

"I have to say, you look radiant this evening, Hermione."

"Thank you," she replied automatically before pausing. "How do you know my name?"

His mouth tugged into a smirk. Why was it so familiar?

"You look far better in that gown than I could have ever imagined. I'm quite pleased with my choice despite 'Wena's protests that I really ought to choose another gown."

"Excuse me?" Her brow furrowed.

He smiled at her. "I was surprised the old witch found the gown at all, I placed it in plain sight and she wandered past it _three_ times before spotting it."

"I... I don't understand," she frowned, attempting to pull back from him but he held her tighter, preventing her from doing so. "Do I know you? Have we met before?"

"We have not met before, you know _of_ me but I believe you know my Grandson very well."

Her eyes slowly traced his amused expression, cataloguing his features from his hair right down to that damn infuriating smirk before realisation smacked her in the face.

"Merlin!" She whispered, her eyes widening.

"Your father, what has he got to do with this evening?" He tipped his head innocently.

"It's you! You're Salazar Slytherin," she whisper-hissed, her eyes darting about to see no one was looking their way or seemed to be even remotely interested in them.

"That I am, Dear. And Sal will do just fine, I am, after all, your Godfather," he smirked.

"What..." She spluttered, unable to organise her thoughts or find the words to speak.

"My, it has been a long time since I've seen you this surprised, I have missed it," he mused.

"But... What are you doing here? Why do you look like _that_? _What_ are you doing here?" She repeated.

He chuckled. "This is my younger self," he answered.

She opened her mouth, closed it and then opened it again. "I'm sorry to say, you did not age well."

He laughed in surprise at her comment. "You are far more like your father than I previously realised. It seems I owe Helga dinner."

"What?" She frowned.

"Never mind, as for what I'm doing here, isn't it obvious?"

"Not really, no," she replied, unable to take her eyes from him. As if, she was dancing with _the_ Salazar Slytherin and he was her Godfather.

"Your father is taking care of some Elder business and I wished to check up on you after what happened," he admitted, his expression suddenly darkening, his magic pouring from him in a manner that was similar to Riddle's before he reigned it in.

"I'm fine,"

"Are you?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, I am. I've ensured justice was served, not only for me but the other girls that were targeted. I was lucky, they were not. I admit, I am having a little trouble trusting that my food and drink haven't been tampered with but I'm sure that is something I will get over. Morgana's spell did wonders for its purpose."

His mouth tugged at the corners. "I have never seen that witch so proud in all her death, it was truly a magnificent sight," he tipped his head in approval. "But, I am here for another reason. Since 'Rus finally revealed himself to you and you are aware of your heritage, I thought it about time we meet one another, clear the air, so to speak."

"There is nothing to be said," she waved him off.

"But there is," he sighed tiredly, suddenly looking older than his twenty-something appearance. "I am truly sorry that you have suffered so greatly and under the pretence of _my_ beliefs and my blood."

"It wasn't your fault, father explained to me that your beliefs were lost in translation as the years past and that is something you couldn't control. I understand that you did not hate Muggleborns, more specifically, you were wary of them and the threat of their muggle families, which is understandable, especially after the Witch Trials."

"A true tragedy," he agreed.

"But I believe muggles are far more accepting these days than they used to be, but that doesn't mean we should expose our world and way of life to everyone. We need to be kept apart because it is what is best for everyone."

"Agreed," he nodded.

"Is that all?"

"No, I know you have a difficult mission," he started and Hermione pursed her lips whilst also scowling at him, being reminded of what her father told her about Slytherin's wishes of her and Riddle one day marrying. "And I know my Grandson is a difficult man but with the right guidance, with the right witch by his side, he can do great things for the world. We both know things need to change and they need to do so for the better and despite his beliefs, Tom has the ability and power to do that."

"But as you said, his beliefs are something he feels strongly about. How am I supposed to change that? And even if I do, he needs the support of the Pureblood families, if they discover he no longer believes in blood purity, he will lose that. In which, what would happen then?"

"You have to show him the truth, Hermione. Show him _my_ truth."

"That's easier said than done," she sighed. "At the moment, I'm close to hexing his mouth shut."

He chuckled. "I can't imagine him taking kindly to that. But, perhaps you should give him what he wants."

"I'm not a possession," she scowled. "I am a human being. He wants to _own_ me, like I'm a bleeding house-elf. I know that I must be close to him and I must gain his trust, but I refuse to be a slave."

"Then don't. Be his companion. Be his trusted advisor. Be his lover."

She scowled. "Father told me everything, he said you want me to marry him."

"I'm not opposed to our bloodlines joining," he tipped his head, not bothering to look surprised or apologetic. "You are everything he needs, Hermione. You are powerful, responsible, kind and caring. But you are also vengeful and intelligent. You know when the time calls for punishment and when it does not. You can help to curb his darker desires. Whilst you may not practice the magic he does, you are not afraid to toe the line, so to speak. You are not afraid of him and you challenge him in intelligence, power and will. He has many flaws, that I am not denying, but is he really so bad?"

Hermione took a breath, steeling her nerves and carefully thinking of her next response.

"I admit that he is handsome and although it frightens me, I've come to realise that some time during my arrival and our interactions, I am attracted to him. I admit that I feel safe when he is nearby and I'm not entirely certain how, but I know he won't harm me. And whilst I now know he would never resort to forcing himself on a woman, something that makes him seem less monstrous, I know what he's capable of, I know what he's done and what he's going to do, and that is hard for me to comprehend."

"That is understandable, but he is Tom Riddle, _not_ Voldemort. He's done some terrible things as did I when I was his age, if I am being honest, I did far worse. The only thing that changed me was meeting my wife. She was to me, what you can be for Tom."

Her eyes fell to the ground as she nibbled at her lip thoughtfully.

"Still, to be his _lover_. The thought alone..." She trailed off with a sigh.

"Well, I'm not your father, so I hope you don't feel too uncomfortable with what I'm about to say. I have seen your interactions, and I take great amusement in your bickering, but even a blind man can see the chemistry between you. You argue frequently but in the bedroom, I'm sure that will mean neither of you will be unsatisfied."

"Was what your way of trying to be subtle?" She arched her brow.

"You understood my meaning," he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't about what might happen between us, rather, that I know I'll feel guilty. I feel guilty being attracted to him, how will I feel if I sleep with him? And more than once? I don't want to betray my friends."

"You're not, Hermione. You are here for a reason, to save them. As hard as it is for you to comprehend, _your_ Harry and Ron, they are dead and they are never coming back." Her gaze fell down to the ground. "Should you succeed, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are quite likely to be different people, people that may not know you or each other the way you remember. They are gone and you are betraying no one but yourself. If you have feelings for Tom, no matter what they may be, that is your business and no one else's. If you enjoy spending your time in his bed, that is your decision. You must survive, too. Tom will keep you safe. He has already shown he cares for you in his own way. If he didn't, he wouldn't have taken your drugging so personally, he wouldn't have taken you to the safety of his dorm and allowed you to stay in his bed, he wouldn't have demanded their punishment or that it lasted as long as it did, especially when there was a chance they could've been reported missing and he'd fall under scrutiny. He put himself in jeopardy for you whether he realises that or not. I don't believe he will ever truly seek remorse for what he's done in the past, but I do believe that with you, he can achieve great things and he can learn to manage the darker parts of himself."

"This is a lot to take in," she muttered.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I feel you needed a second point of view, an unbiased opinion."

She snorted. "You are far from unbiased."

"So I am," he tipped his head in defeat.

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, you are the one that chose this dress?"

"Yes, but I had a little help from Helga." Hermione glanced down at herself before looking to him in surprise. "Helga is not as sweet and innocent as she is depicted to be."

"That, I am beginning to understand," Hermione nodded. "But why a dress such as this?"

"Tom, of course," he replied, as if it were obvious. She released a sigh. "My Dear, he hasn't taken his eyes off you."

"What?" She whisper-hissed.

"He has been watching you from the moment you stepped into the room which is quite understandable."

"I never saw him."

"He was tucked away in the corner, conversing with some of Slughorn's more esteemed guests."

"Of course he was," she rolled her eyes. "And just who does Slughorn think you are?"

"An Auror,"

Hermione burst into sniggers. "Please, given the magic I know you preferred, that is ridiculous."

"Well, it's a highly respected career choice and I was somewhat of an Auror in my living years. I protected the school from outside influences and attackers."

"I've heard it all now," she replied.

"As for my Grandson, he has been glaring daggers at me from the moment I approached you. I admit, now I understand why you antagonise him so much, it is quite fun."

"I know, it's my favourite part of the day," she nodded and he chuckled.

"Well, he looks to be doing his best to calm himself before he approaches, what say we push his control a little bit further?"

"How?" She asked amused.

He grinned at her before unexpectedly spinning her under his arm, then twirling her away from him before pulling her back into him and dipping her low, a laugh falling from her lips. By the time he'd set her back on her feet, Riddle was stood behind her, his expression furious, his eyes dark and doing his best not to free his magic but she could feel it brushing against her skin like a summer's breeze. Being able to feel it too, Salazar's mouth tugged into a smirk and Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing. Riddle was jealous, but not only that, he was jealous of his Grandfather. It was priceless.

"Would you mind if I stole Miss. Nilrem?" Riddle asked politely. They both knew it was a front.

"Of course not," Salazar replied, turning his eyes back to Hermione. "It has been a pleasure, My Dear."

"It has," Hermione agreed. "Will I see you again?"

Salazar's dark eyes sparkled in amusement and approval as he pulled back from her, took her hand in his and bowed.

"I do hope so." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before rising to full height, releasing her hand, nodding to Riddle and then stepping back, disappearing into the crowd until he was gone.

She almost couldn't believe it had happened.

"Who was that?"

Hermione turned to face Riddle, doing her best to school her features into an expression of confusion and innocence, as if she hadn't been deliberately trying to wind him up with his Grandfather's assistance.

"I'm sorry,"

" _Who_ was that?" He repeated, his gaze dark and just daring her to lie to him.

"Oh, that was Sal," she replied innocently.

"What did he want?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm not entirely sure, we didn't do a lot of talking," she tipped her head, enjoying the way his jaw visibly ticked and before she'd seen it coming, he'd swept her against him, one hand settling against her waist and the other holding hers, swiftly falling into step with the music playing. She blinked in surprise and gave her head a light shake.

"The polite thing to do would be to ask me if I wished to dance," she said, looking up at him.

"Would you have agreed?"

"Possibly, if only to avoid a scene."

"This way is much easier," he told her, subtly shifting his weight to guide her further from one of the other dancing couples on the dance floor.

"Still, it was quite rude the way you interrupted my conversation with Sal."

"As you said yourself, you didn't do a lot of talking," he argued, his fingers flexing against her waist before loosening his grip and he tugged her a little closer to his body.

"Careful, Riddle, you almost sound jealous."

"Jealous?" He repeated in disbelief.

"That is what I said, jealous."

"That is not my fault. When you are dressed in such a manner, you are bound to attract attention."

"You do not approve of my choice in gown this evening?" She arched her brow, her mouth twitching.

His nose flared and his hold on her tightened as his eyes deliberately and slowly trailed her form from head to toe.

"I did not say that,"

"Oh, so you _do_ approve?"

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you dressed for _me_."

"Why would I do that?" She asked innocently. "The witch chose the gown believing it would suit my skin tone and body shape and I have to commend her. At first, I was quite uncertain but now, I think I might send her a gift basket."

"You and me both," he muttered, his eyes lingering slowly.

Salazar knew exactly what he was doing, Hermione decided.

She'd kept her makeup simple, opting for a dash of mascara to thicken and lengthen her eyelashes, a nude shimmer eye shadow and the most dramatic of it all, a dark red lip stain that outlined the bow shape of her mouth. Her dress, on the other hand, was far from simple and far being similar to the gown she'd worn to the Halloween Ball. Her current gown was made of emerald green silk, the gown being held up by two thin shoulder straps and the material looking as though it had been poured over her as it fit to her frame and fell down to the floor. The neckline was a little on the risky side but showed nothing inappropriate, however, there was a slit in the dress dangerously high on her right leg, showing her smooth, pale skin when she walked and the silver strappy heels beneath.

She should've realised sooner. Green and silver. Slytherin's colours.

With her arms, shoulders and neck uncovered, she'd been sure to glamour all potentially visible scars, all except one. The one Riddle's eyes latched onto.

" _What_ is that?" He hissed, his grip on her waist tightening before releasing it and he brought his hand up to her throat, his fingers softly skimming the thin line he found there. Admittedly, a shiver ran through her at his touch.

"A scar,"

"How did you get it?" He gave her a look of annoyance for her simple but evasive answer, them both knowing what he'd meant.

"That's none of your business," she replied, pulling free of his hold, spinning on her heel and manoeuvring through the crowd, heading for the door.

She'd barely stepped out into the chilly corridor when Riddle was upon her, caging her against the stone wall with his hands pressed on either side of her head and his body before hers yet he wasn't actually touching her.

"How did you get it, _Hermione_?"

She breathed in deeply through the nose and slowly released it through the mouth.

"I don't see how that matters, and I don't understand why you care so much for my past experiences."

"You are mine."

"No, I'm not," she argued, glaring up at him.

"When will you accept the inevitable?"

"Never, it's not going to happen."

"It is," he said confidently. His head lowered, his nose brushing the skin of her throat. "You and I both know you _will_ be mine."

Her breath hitched and her skin broke out in goosebumps when his magic suddenly surrounded her, her brain finding it hard to think let alone come up with a response and before she'd realised it, her hands had moved to his robes, twisting the fabric in her clenched fists tightly.

He released a chuckle that sent a zing straight down her spine and to her toes.

"Don't do that," she mumbled.

"Do what?" He questioned innocently, his body moving a little closer to hers, helping to fend off the chill settling around them.

" _That_!" She clarified, tugging at his robes and slumping against the wall when his magic retreated only to surround her again. "It's hard to think when you do that."

"Is that so?" He muttered, his lips brushing her skin with each word he spoke.

Needing to turn the tables, Hermione allowed her own magic free, it pouring from her until it surrounded them, twining with his and making the air stuffy and tense. He lifted his head, breathing in deeply and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening again, his gaze dark and hungry.

She was screwed.

"Yes, it is," she said, her voice breathier than she'd have liked but there was nothing she could do about it.

"Give in to me," he muttered, his voice lowering seductively.

"No,"

"You will be safe with me. Protected. _Satisfied_ in every way possible."

"No,"

He released a sigh. "My patience is wearing thin," he warned.

"So is mine."

"I have the power to give you anything you desire, all you have to do is be mine. I am not asking much of you."

"No, you're asking everything of me," she disagreed.

His nose ran the length of her throat, over her jaw and his mouth hovered by her ear as he whispered, " _Hermione_..."

"Tom, my lad, there you are, I was wondering where you'd disappeared to. Oh, and you're with Miss. Nilrem," Slughorn's surprised voice carried.

Hermione hated the way Tom pulled back from her, turning to face Slughorn with a guilt-ridden expression.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, grinning sheepishly and a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he shifted on his feet. Hermione's eyes narrowed. He was blushing! How the hell did he force that?!

Slughorn's expression morphed from surprise into a pleased knowing smile.

"Ah, not to worry, I was a teenager once," he said, giving a knowing wink. Hermione didn't know who she wanted to slap more. Slughorn or Riddle. "But come now, love birds, the night is still young and there are some guests I've yet to introduce you to. I'm certain you will find time to be alone together in the future."

"Yes, Professor," Riddle complied, his hand reaching for Hermione's and hooking it in the crease of his elbow and he guided her forward.

"I swear, Riddle, I'm going to kill you," she muttered.

"No, you're not," he replied quietly, smiling down at her adoringly. Hermione wasn't blind to Slughorn's pleased grin.

The moment they entered through the door, Hermione plastered a friendly and polite smile on her face.

"This is the wizard I was telling you about, Tom Riddle," Slughorn said excitedly, his hands gesturing between a group of five older wizards and Tom. "And this lovely young witch is his beau, Hermione Nilrem, incredibly intelligent she is, she and Tom are currently academically tied for first place and we are expecting great things from the both of them."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen," Hermione smiled politely, tipping her head and folding her hands before her, not missing the way they each eyed her curiously but also leeringly and she felt Riddle stiffen beside her, his arm winding around her waist and tugging her into his side possessively.

Hermione blocked out Riddle's exchange them but she was soon brought back to attention when she heard her name.

"...What do aspire to be once you graduate Hogwarts?"

"Well, if I am completely honest, there are so many options that I am struggling to simply choose one. I have always enjoyed learning so perhaps I might undertake a Mastery but I do enjoy a challenge and the only way I feel that will be achieved is by completing two within a single year, something I know is highly discouraged but I believe I would succeed. I also know there are only a handful of witches that have a law degree and such practices have always intrigued me, even as a young child. I've also an interest in Wand Lore and the secrets that are hidden from society and only shared between the family employees. There are many hidden and long forgotten forms of magic in the world and I can only imagine the adventures one might have in discovering such knowledge. Of course, that is but a few options I'm currently considering."

The five wizards looked to one another and blinked in surprise before their eyes darted back to her.

"But, of course, any career path I choose must not prevent me from helping Tom in achieving his goals," she smiled sweetly, feeling Riddle's fingers flex against her waist and she looked up at him, seeing his ice-blue eyes darkening as he gazed down at her. That was the first time she'd called him by his given name and he seemed to approve.

"Yes, yes, as I said, both are destined for great things," Slughorn cut in, plucking _another_ flute of champagne from a tray as a server walked past.

"Yes, Horace has been quite forthcoming regarding your aspirations, Mr. Riddle," one of the wizards said.

"And behind a great man, is a great woman," another said, his eyes leering at Hermione.

Riddle's form stiffened and she felt his magic swarm the room threateningly. She reached up with her hand, tugging at his robes and his dark gaze cut to her. He was furious. Subtly, she gave her head a shake and he seemed to understand the warning as he took a breath and his magic retreated but not entirely, still surrounding her and brushing against her skin.

"I am lucky to have found mine so young," he smiled. Hermione _was_ going to slap him.

"Yes, and one so beautiful and intelligent, too. A rare find indeed."

~000~000~000~

 **Friday 3rd November 1994**

Nilrem had been avoiding him for days and he _hated_ it. More often than not, his followers had been on the receiving end of his temper and they scurried whenever he was nearby.

She'd fled from Slughorn's party as soon as possible, the emerald of her silk gown trailing behind her as she rounded the corner of the halls and her heels echoing in the large castle. He'd excused himself, making excuses of needing to escort Hermione back to her dorm before he retired for the night himself, needing to get some sleep before classes the next morning and once he'd left, he followed after her but she'd soon disappeared from his view.

That night he'd gone to bed, images of soft pale skin, dark eyes, emerald silk and red-stained lips filling his mind. He was certain she'd worn that gown on purpose, to get his attention and she had from the moment she'd stepped into Slughorn's party. The light of the candles had cast shadows over her skin and the emerald silk that covered her body had shimmered and rippled like running water. The gown could have been made for her. And Merlin! The risky slit in her gown had most certainly tested his patience whenever her pale flesh was revealed when she walked.

He hadn't been able to stop himself from watching her, observing, _obsessing_. Salazar did he want her! He wanted her like he'd never wanted anything else and it was driving him insane.

The feel of her magic reacting to his was intoxicating, the feel of her warm skin beneath his nose and lips was drugging and her scent of honey was unforgettable. He had to have her. She would be his, in every way imaginable.

She'd done her absolute best to ignore him in their shared classes, barely glancing at him despite his attempts to infuriate her, something that had never failed to get a reaction. She attended few and fewer meals in the great hall and she used her knowledge of the castle to her advantage, avoiding him and his Knights no matter how many he ordered to follow her. It was infuriating. He'd spooked her at the party, he'd known that but he couldn't get the sound of his given name falling from her lips from ringing in his ears, of her words supporting him and playing along with the rouse from filling his thoughts. Slughorn had been more useful than Tom had thought was possible.

Lifting his gaze, he caught sight of Rosier and Nott whispering between one another, doing their best to keep their glances subtle but failing miserably. They were talking about _him_ , he knew.

Looking around the common room, Tom double-checked it was empty of everyone but his Knights before leaning back into the armchair, his book lay open on his lap and he steepled his fingers together and narrowed his eyes.

"Care to share with the rest of us?" He spoke.

Rosier and Lestrange both froze, their heads slowly turning in his direction, panic darting through their eyes.

Nott opened his mouth before snapping it shut and he sat tall, shuffling on the cushion of the couch. Malfoy, Lestrange, Dolohov and Avery's eyes moved away from their homework assignments and darted between him and the two wizards.

"No, My Lord," Rosier replied, a waver in his voice.

"No, no, the floor is all yours," Tom gestured to the ground before him with a wave of his hand. "What do you wish to say?"

Rosier visibly gulped and a bead a sweat formed on his forehead.

"It's about Nilrem."

"Oh?" Tom inquired innocently, his fury building but he kept his expression calm.

"She...Erm... She said something to me earlier in the week," he admitted.

"And that is?"

"Well, she..." He hesitated before thinking better of it. "I asked why she was being so stubborn, My Lord. Her answer was not one I was expecting." Tom arched an eyebrow. "She told me that she is not a possession. She is a human being. If I might offer some advice, My Lord, perhaps treating her like a witch might work in your favour."

Tom's brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"Rosier's right," Malfoy nodded in agreement. "Whilst we are aware Nilrem is unlike other witches and does not care for the same things, she is still a _witch_. In my experience, they like to be listened to. They enjoy being showered with gifts and attention. They appreciate a gesture no matter how grand. Has Nilrem said something in passing that might be of use to you?"

Tom scoured his memory and pursed his lips, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully.

"Perhaps," he tipped his head. And then suddenly it hit him. "Yes," his mouth pulled into a smirk. "I know just the thing. Malfoy, I require the use of your owl."

"Of course, My Lord," he tipped his head.

Tom knew exactly how to make her his.


End file.
